


grass growing under your feet

by usabuns



Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hospitals, Hugs, Kokoro POV, Mitsuru POV, Near Future, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pregnancy, Psychoanalysis, Repressed Memories, Self-Reflection, Slice of Life, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: The days pass normally as Mitsuru and Kokoro await the birth of their fourth child, growing closer together and piecing together lost fragments of their memories in the process.Post episode 24; near-future / pregnancy fic.Updates every other Thursday





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've been working on this on and off since the anime ended. I am still enjoying the manga currently, which inspired me to finish this. I have most of it planned out and as of writing this note I have three chapters already done, so I expect the update schedule to be smooth.
> 
> Since this fic is post-canon, I have done some world-building as necessary, and have made names and personalities for all of squad 13's unnamed children shown in episode 24. If you're confused about anything, please feel free to leave a comment so I can get back to you!
> 
> Please read all of the tags; I will be updating them with the coming chapters and will make note of when I add tags or change the rating.

Kokoro tilts her face downward, a pleasant smile gracing her lips, and lightly kisses the top of her second daughter’s head. The little girl is sitting calmly in her mother’s lap, playing with the small cloth doll Kokoro had sewn all those years ago (or that’s what Miku had told her)—only a decade, but it feels as if it’s been a century. She looks like that doll, with the same olive-brown hair like her father, and his vert eyes, and the blank, bored expression that always rests on her face. Her personality is like Mitsuru’s, too, different from Ai’s cheery attitude and Katsu’s playful, kind behavior. 

Sakura—she’s named after the one and only word Kokoro can remember about the time before her memory was wiped. Their baby daughter carries on those lost memories in her name, the ones that hold the love and bond she and Mitsuru had once shared. They have a different type of love now, but the same lingering attraction toward each other. Kokoro’s hand falls to brush over her stomach, where a fourth life is growing. Their love is the same in that regard—in that they both share the desire to unite through intercourse and bare children, and then raise those children together. 

As husband and wife, like their simple metal rings symbolize. 

The two-year-old gurgles a bit, tugging on the doll’s stubby arms. Kokoro shifts Sakura on her thighs, pulling her closer to her abdomen. Her daughter doesn’t often get fussy, but is simply just curious about everything. She’s quiet, too, even as she pokes and pulls and feels things, learning more about this strange new world she’s in. 

Yes, it’s strange and new for Kokoro and the others, too. 

She’s momentarily lost in thought as Sakura plays around, biting the doll’s head and scrunching up its pigtails. The poor thing is a bit stained and worn down by now, having been heavily used by Ai as well when she was younger. The colors are faded and there are tiny tears here and there, even some stuffing coming out in thin strands. “Doll... Doll...” the girl murmurs occasionally, through more gurgling and cooing. 

”That’s right, dear.” Kokoro goes to gently pat Sakura’s head, thereafter tightening the short ponytail that sits at the back of her head. And before leaning back completely, she can’t resist kissing her again. 

Sakura tilts her head back slightly, nudging into her mother’s chest. “Mm, Mama... Gimme—Papa...” She hugs the doll tightly, and more unintelligible mumbling ensues. 

”Shh, shh, your papa will be here soon.” Rightfully (and a bit unsurprisingly), Sakura’s quite close to her father. ‘Attached’ is a better word. Kokoro slips her hands underneath Sakura’s little arms; she lifts her up and turns her around, tickling her sides in the process. The doll hangs limply in Sakura’s grip, while the toddler herself looks annoyed, with a pouty expression. There is, however, a light pink blush on her chubby cheeks. “Mama loves you a lot, Sakura.” Even as she stands in her lap, Kokoro pulls her daughter into another hug, and this time Sakura is able to embrace her back. 

Today is a day off for her and Mitsuru, and the kids aren’t in school either. As such, Ai and Katsu are playing with their respective friends in town, and Sakura gets to spend the afternoon with her parents. She’s wearing a cute, light brown and cream colored dress, with a frilly hem and a big bow at the back. It’s so odd to see the little girl in something other than her school uniform, or at least that’s how Kokoro feels about it currently. 

Having a day off isn’t _entirely_ true—that’s why her husband is gone, because he’d had to work this morning doing some farm work and mechanical salvaging. Although Mitsuru also had an affinity for writing, it was more of a side hobby. A lot of his novels and almanacs were still used in the school, though they were written infrequently. 

Kokoro had been fairly busy this morning as well, tending to her flower shop and watering the many plants in her garden. She’d dressed Sakura and dropped her off here, at the bakery (under the watchful eyes of Futoshi and his wife), and hadn’t seen her until she’d arrived minutes ago, collected her daughter who’d been scampering around with the other toddlers, and taken a seat with her at an unoccupied table. 

This particular table is situated in the outdoor section of the corner shop, which is a café-like area. It’s a small rectangular portion that extends off the side of the main bakery, with a pink-and-white-striped awning shading it. Kokoro and Sakura are seated at one of the edges, which is gated off by a low fence and shrubbery from the sidewalk and sprawling grass courtyard. Children are playing tag or ball and whole families are relaxing on picnic blankets, enjoying the peaceful Spring day. The greenery is surrounded by a row of shops on one side, the giant center reservoir on the other across from it, and blooming cherry blossoms on the two remaining opposing ends. 

Sakura shifts, plopping herself back down onto Kokoro’s thighs—the sudden movement makes Kokoro blink, her gaze drifting downward and looking at her child fondly. Sakura paws at the table, patting her palms against it as she struggles to see over the edge of the tabletop. 

Which reminds Kokoro—she still has half a cup of hot green tea left to drink. She leans forward a bit, short, ashen blonde hair wavily falling across her face as she clasps the porcelain teacup, then skillfully maneuvering her other arm around Sakura to grab the little saucer to avoiding spilling. The tea is still warm, tasting bitter but with some sweetness from the sugar she’d added and a hint of freshness from the mint leaf garnish. 

Kokoro takes a long sip, thereafter inhaling a deep breath and then exhaling slowly. “It’s so nice today,” she sing-songs, half talking to Sakura and half talking to herself. Her eyes close. A cool breeze blows past, tickling her cheeks and moving her wavy hair all about. Kokoro sets her empty cup down on the smooth tablecloth, wrapping her arms around Sakura and letting her posture relax. She shuts her rich blue eyes again. 

For a long time, she never thought she’d be able to experience peace like this. She never would’ve thought that she and the other Parasites would’ve ended the war with the Klaxosaurs and VIRM, would’ve restored Earth and built up a proper society and lifestyle. They all have families, they can live without worrying about piloting the FranXX to their deaths, they can leave their marks on the world. This world—this beautiful world they’d all taken part in carefully creating—was the result of so much sacrifice and hard work, both on their parts and...more importantly, Zero Two’s and Hiro’s. 

”—What are you thinking about, Kokoro-chan?” 

Kokoro’s eyes snap open, her name abruptly turning her to attention as she’s pulled out of her daze. Instinctively, her grip tightens around Sakura, who whines and yelps in discomfort, until she finally registers that it’s only Futoshi approaching, a small silver tray with their food on it laden in his hands and a teasing grin on his face. She relaxes, also letting a slow smile spread onto her lips. 

There’s a small laugh from her, too. “I still can’t believe you call me that after all these years...” She can’t help the fit of little giggles that erupts from her again, even as she scoots her chair closer. 

”Ehh? Of course I do! What’s wrong with that?!” He sounds proud of it, but she doesn’t miss the way he fumbles while setting the plates down, and how his cheeks tint the slightest shade of rose, showing clearly how flustered he is. 

”...I suppose it’s still endearing, heheh.” Kokoro’s hand flies up to cup her cheek as she offers up a muffled laugh with her mouth closed. “Some things never change, do they, Futoshi-kun?” She suddenly thinks it’s a bit hypocritical to criticize Futoshi for using the same honorifics when she does the same for him. Well, it’s more like good-natured teasing, though she still can’t help but feel that she’s being a little unfair. 

There’s a hearty chuckle from Futoshi as he sits down in the seat across from her, the third seat in between them still unoccupied, but ready for their missing guest. “Mm, no, they don’t...” Somehow, his voice seems to drift off into a wisp of what it was. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” He crosses his arms sharply and leans forward, one thick eyebrow arched, a feign accusatory look on his face. It’s hard for Kokoro to be intimidated when his appearance is so soft and friendly, especially more-so these days. 

She shifts a bit, gaze lingering on the four plates of sweet bread rolls on the table, which Sakura is reaching for in vain. “Oh, you mean about my thinking?” Her voice is calm but...with a tone of uncertainty. Her brows crease, only by a fraction, but relax once Sakura starts cooing. Kokoro drags one plate closer and hands the bread off for her daughter to munch on happily. 

”Yeah, you had that dreamy look on your face, you know? Like you were really lost in your thoughts.” It’s no surprise that after he says it, Futoshi bites into his own piece of bread. Kokoro blinks, as if reminded of how hungry she is—she’d been too preoccupied this morning to eat breakfast, and now was lunch time already... 

There are a few brief seconds of silence as she grabs her own plate, tearing off a few small pieces of the bun to eat. It’s good, of course it is; she’s had it so many times but the taste still amazes her. It’s buttery and sweet, but neither of those two flavors are overpowering. After she swallows, she clears her throat. “Just about _everything_...” 

Kokoro can hear the light scraping of Futoshi’s shoes against the ground as he kicks his legs back and forth underneath the table. “Everything?” His eyebrows furrow for a moment as he looks her in the eye. 

She folds her hands over where Sakura’s small stomach is, subconsciously tugging her a bit closer in the process. The toddler is still nibbling at her roll eagerly, little fingers pinching off pieces occasionally as she chews. “Yes, I was thinking about how... How this all seemed like a dream when we were kids, not something so attainable.” Kokoro lifts one hand and traces the rim of her cup with one finger. 

”Right, we’ve come a long way,” he says, looking down. His head is propped up on his palm, arm angled on top of the table. “It felt like that even five or six years ago. Sometimes I still think I’ll wake up in Mistilteinn...” Futoshi blinks, eyes going a little wide with embarrassment as he straightens up. “O-Oh, that probably sounds silly—“ 

”—No, I... I feel that way too,” says Kokoro, voice fading near the end of it. A cough comes from her again, and she sits up straighter as well. “Ah, I didn’t mean to make the mood so sour. Sorry, Futoshi-kun.” When her gaze flits down again, Sakura has finally finished off her loaf. Kokoro smiles at the little girl, and wipes away the crumbs and drool at her mouth with a soft napkin. 

”Don’t worry about it,” he says smoothly and warmly, grinning. “I think it’s normal to get like that once in a while. All of us have...been through a lot.” Yes, Kokoro thinks, they have. They all deserve to live a full life like this, choosing to do what they please. Living by their own rules. “—Sakura-chan’s getting pretty big, isn’t she?” Futoshi’s gaze moves down to the two-year-old, who perks up at the sound of her name. 

His voice switches into that soft, lovey-dovey tone he gets sometimes when he talks to Kokoro, or his wife, or any of the kids. Kokoro holds up Sakura a little bit over the end of the table. Futoshi reaches out to pat her head and ruffle her hair. Sakura giggles happily, grabbing at Futoshi’s arms. It makes him laugh as well. Kokoro holds the girl out further for him to take, sweetly asking, “Sakura, did you like the bread your Uncle Futoshi made for you?” 

”Mmm... Mmhmm~“ There’s nodding on Sakura’s part as she’s grabbed by Futoshi, who lifts her up high in the air. She kicks and waves her arms gleefully, then laughs and smiles brightly. When Futoshi sits her in his lap, her back cushioned by his plump belly, Sakura lets out another bubbly laugh. 

Kokoro sets the doll down on the table, pushing it aside while watching as Futoshi picks Sakura up again and holds her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her securely. “She’s hardly ever this lively...” Kokoro makes a ‘tsk’ sound, a playful twinge of jealousy in her tone. Sakura’s only vibrant like this around Mitsuru rarely, or Futoshi when he watches her, or Zorome when she’s at school... It has to be because she’s such a daddy’s girl. A prima-donna. 

...Her attention falls to her ring for some reason, which feels especially cold against her fair skin, even on such a warm day. But Kokoro pulls her gaze up, settling with just absentmindedly rubbing it with her other hand. She and Mitsuru had made a vow to each other on the day the others had left for space—they’d said it didn’t matter what had happened to them in the past, it only mattered what they would make of their future. Kokoro believes that, still, especially because of the tremendous progress they’ve all made in crafting a world for themselves and their descendants. Lately, though, the thought of her missing memories has started preying on her mind again. 

They had something special, definitively more special than what they have now. They had made even stronger vows to each other on the day they slipped those rings on—the day, among countless others, that they can’t remember. In a weird way, it’s comforting, but at the same time it makes her insides squirm. Almost like something feels _off_ about their relationship. When all’s said and done, they still love each other, but knowing that there were other aspects to it... The past ten years have flown by; they’ve all been busy and Kokoro hasn’t had time to dwell on it. But now, now that everything is settled for the most part, her brain often wanders to the same question: What were we like before? 

”—Hey, Futoshi-kun, you’ve all talked to me about the wedding...” She keeps looking down, but she feels Futoshi’s gaze on her. He stays silent. “When I named her ‘Sakura,’ it’s because that’s all I could remember about Mitsuru-kun.” And her head thumps on cue, but Kokoro pays it no bother. Her fingers reach up to flit the curls at the ends of her pale blonde locks. “A-And I think—I think she’s helped me remember some of it, because I say her name so much. I can see the cherry blossom trees outside the boarding house. I can picture what shade of blue the sky was that day. I can remember feeling...happy.” 

Without even realizing it, she’s smiling, with a careful blush on her face. Is this what the old Kokoro was like? What the old Kokoro felt like on her wedding day? In a way she feels more normal knowing fragments of these memories can come back to her like this, even if they’re just emotions or vague images. 

”R-Really? Do you?” His voice sounds a bit giddy, like maybe he’s getting his hopes up a bit too much. “Th-That’s great! I mean, I’m really glad some of it is starting to come back to you...!” The smile on his face looks genuine, as does the happy pink blush—no, Kokoro _knows_ it’s genuine. Some of her implanted memories of staying partners with him might’ve been fake, but Futoshi will always be the same Futoshi that she can remember so well. 

“—Papa! Papa...!” Kokoro and Futoshi are both too distracted by their conversation to notice the person approaching from the grassy field, but Sakura’s calling pulls them back into reality. At once, they turn their heads to where the little girl is reaching out, leaning precariously over Futoshi’s crossed arms. There’s Mitsuru, in his usual garb, beaming as his eyes lock with Sakura’s. 

”There you are, Mitsuru!” Futoshi has to hold Sakura especially tight, as she’s reaching out for her father rather aggressively, whining for him. She’s held up by Futoshi, who smiles sheepishly. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show!” he says teasingly, under his breath. Mitsuru leans down and Sakura immediately latches onto his chest, twining her arms around his neck and squeeing out more calls of ‘Papa!’ as he hugs her close. 

With the hand that isn’t supporting his daughter, Mitsuru pulls out the chair that’s in between Kokoro’s and Futoshi’s spots. “She’s so excited to see you, she’s been shouting for you all afternoon,” Kokoro says, in a tone that is half loving and half exasperated. 

There is a mild, curt laugh from Mitsuru. “I believe it. Though I don’t know if it’s good for her to get too attached.” The last plate topped with a bread roll is in front of him, while Kokoro’s mostly eaten bun is the only other one left. He breaks off half and brings it up to his mouth, occasionally eating it at a slow pace. 

To his right, Futoshi smiles a little bashfully. “It might be because she knows there’s another baby on the way. Yui-chan has been like that lately, too...” It seemed to make sense, especially if Futoshi’s daughter was acting equally as clingy to her father as Sakura was now that her mother was heavily pregnant. Soon, both sets of parents would be paying more attention to their newborns, who would replace Yui and Sakura as the youngest children. 

”Speaking of—“ Mitsuru turns to his left, looking Kokoro in the eye very seriously. “How are you feeling, K-Kokoro-san—?” A hard wince. Though it took a while to get used to, Mitsuru usually called her ‘Mama,’ but Kokoro knew that once in a while he liked to use her name. 

_I’ll call your name as many times as you want._

”—I’m fine, _Papa_.” She smiles, though, resting her palm upon his forearm comfortingly as his face relaxes. “I haven’t been straining myself, so don’t worry too much.” 

Mitsuru smiles back at her gently, with a fond look in his eyes. “Alright,” he says simply, grabbing the last half of his sweet bread. 

Kokoro folds her hands in her lap, tuning out as Mitsuru and Futoshi begin to talk about something or the other. She looks at Sakura, who's beginning to doze off, snuggled up to her father—curled in a ball—and drooling slightly. Mitsuru’s hands brush against the little girl’s back up and down as he speaks, the ring on his finger glinting when hit by the sunlight. Kokoro’s pale blue eyes soften when she catches the bright glare of the metal, and another slow grin appears on her face, this time more fond. 

She leans back in her chair, just enjoying the beauty of the day, the white noise of their chatter lulling her into a state of serenity. Her gaze falls to those piercing, dark green eyes of Mitsuru’s, which are trained on Futoshi—they look more loving and full of life than they ever have before. Nothing like the cold eyes of the Mitsuru who didn’t remember her and didn’t think he’d ever develop any feelings for her, or the scared, anxious eyes of the Mitsuru who said he was a weakling. 

These eyes are full of determination, and hope for the future. Kokoro decides she wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past draws her back. Kokoro tries to keep looking forward even when certain images recall those memories.

Just after breakfast, Kokoro is sitting on a dark metal bench that lies at the edge of her vast backyard garden, hands folded in her lap as she watches Mitsuru play with the kids. 

A little while ago, Kokoro had done Ai’s hair into long twin braids and looped dandelions into her smooth locks, and she had also walked through the garden while holding Sakura’s little hand, showing her different kinds of flowers and explaining their meanings in a simple, understandable form. At that time Mitsuru was still inside cleaning up, and Katsu was playing with his ball in the grass, his choppy blond bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. 

Her husband had been the one to cook this morning, and wash the dishes afterward. One of Kokoro’s many hobbies that had developed over the years was baking, and cooking by extent, so she was often in the kitchen trying new recipes and cooking for her family. But Mitsuru liked to try his hand at it once in a while—especially now when she had Sakura to look after, and was nearing her third month of pregnancy. 

Lately, he’d been urging her more and more to rest and take care of herself. It was no different from how he acted the other three times she’d been carrying a baby. She kept telling him that most things weren’t hard yet, and she could do things on her own, but honestly Kokoro was beginning to feel more exhausted than usual. That combined with the bouts of nausea made her often too weak to dismiss Mitsuru’s efforts to manage some of the household responsibilities when she was looking particularly tired. 

As a result, Mitsuru had woken up just the slightest bit earlier than her this morning to prepare rice-filled omelets for all of them. Kokoro often forgot how good of a chef Mitsuru could be. The eggs were fried to a golden color, not runny but not burned—they were smooth with crispy edges. The rice in the middle was also steamed perfectly, and the outside was drizzled very pleasingly with ketchup and sprinkled with black pepper. Slices of red apples from Kokoro’s garden were on the side of the plate as well. 

Expectedly, the kids all enjoyed the meal very much—it was one of their favorites whenever Kokoro made breakfast and had leftover rice from the night before. 

Kokoro had sat down to rest, rubbing her stomach in an attempt to ease her morning sickness. It was a flickering feeling, churning her insides and then going calm for a few minutes, only to come back twofold afterward. It was an endless cycle, but now that she could carefully watch Mitsuru, Katsu, and Ai kick the ball around while Sakura ran around and cheered, she felt a little bit better. The bright smile on her face never wavered once. 

She fiddles with the hem of her dress, still, which is a slightly shorter one than many of her other dresses. This one, instead of the gold and beige of her normal clothes, was a deep purple with white and gold accents. The collar was lower, as were the sleeves. 

When she looks at Mitsuru like this, amongst the greenery and shrubbery, the short, thin trees and tall flowers behind him, she feels a sense of... _déjà vu_. It makes Kokoro a bit uneasy as she sits there, and she forces herself to look down. Why now? Why is she remembering these things now? More importantly, why does their past even matter to her now, when they have this beautiful life together? 

...She remembers their talks and encounters in the greenhouse. Only vague pieces, some words here and there. But again, it’s mostly the emotions that she feels. She remembers coming out there to water her plants and seeing him there alone, pondering over things; she remembers the other times where she’d be in there first, and he would interrupt her; she remembers going into the greenhouse sometimes just for the small chance that he’d show up so they could speak for a short while. 

That fleeting feeling she’d get in her heart, hoping Mitsuru would share in the comfort of being surrounded by the nature she cared for, was undoubtedly love now that Kokoro can recall some of the emotions from way back then. It was something impulsive and passionate—not like the careful, respectful love they share now 

It’s ironic, she thinks, how the memories that are the furthest back are the easiest to remember. Perhaps it’s because they’ve had time to fester, to imprint themselves in her brain more deeply than the fresh ones. 

”—Hey, Mama!” 

When Kokoro looks up, fully coming to attention, Mitsuru is still tossing the ball back and forth with Ai, and Sakura is riding on top of his shoulders, squealing in delight. Her son is the one calling to her, running toward where she’s sitting while waving and smiling. 

A giggle comes from her as she pulls him into a hug. ”Are you having fun with Papa, Katsu?” She pulls away, and Kokoro is faced with the same piercing eyes as Mitsuru’s (maybe a little softer in shape), though they’re the gentle blue color of her irises. Katsu looks exactly like his father when he was a child, with his blond hair even styled the same way, just a lot fluffier, and with his bangs cut longer. 

The similarity between him and Mitsuru is so striking that it’s almost scary. 

”Mmm!” he says, Kokoro patting his head. “But I’m really thirsty, Mama!” That much is clear—his shirt is soaked in sweat and she could smell his body odor when she’d gone to embrace him. Sniffing, she can still smell it at more of a distance, but she declines to comment on the matter. 

Kokoro nods curtly, twisting by her hips to grab the cold, metal water thermos with her slender fingers. It is quickly uncapped and offered to Katsu, who snatches it even faster. He chugs what must be half of it, smirks at his mother, and hands it back off to her before bolting off to join his siblings again. 

Her mind wanders to when Katsu was born. Ai was only about two, and everyone was still working to create a self-sufficient lifestyle. Things were so different back then, and so much harder. They’d brought this child into the world in the midst of it all, after they’d agreed to try for another. In a way, Katsu had only added to their passion to make a better life. 

When she finally sets the bottle down, Kokoro shakes her head to clear it. Right. It’s silly to think about her childhood, the one devoid of Mitsuru. It’s silly to bring up the pain of the past when their future, and their children, are so bright and shining. They’ve all worked so hard for this—there’s no point in turning her face backwards. 

* * *

A few weeks later, Kokoro sits up in bed, naked, the thin sheets strewn about her. Those sheets are a creamy white and nearly sheer, their silky fabric brushing against her smooth skin, cradling her breasts and plump thighs. Her ashen blonde hair is a mess, especially disheveled without her navy blue headband on, and her back is starting to feel a little sore... 

Now that she looks, Kokoro can see the slightest bit more fat along her lower stomach. Her hand reaches down to run over her naval—where the baby is beginning to grow bigger. Thinking about it, her breasts had begun to feel tender lately, too. She supposes she hasn’t really realized how long it’s been since the child had been conceived. She smiles. 

The clock ticks 9:15 on the nightstand next to her. It glows faintly in the dim morning light coming from the windows. She blinks. Had she slept that long? Why hadn’t Mitsuru— 

—Kokoro’s head tilts to the side, her mind still a haze, and it finally clicks that that warmness that’s always up against her in bed isn’t there, and hasn’t been there for quite some time. 

“ _Mou_...” Eyebrows crease, and Kokoro pulls the blankets off. If it’s past nine, the kids must already be at school. Usually, both she and Mitsuru went to drop them all off together, but it seemed he had taken it upon himself to do the deed this morning. “Did he really go on without me...?” There’s a slightly whiny—needy—edge to her voice, and she’s glad Mitsuru isn’t around to tease her about it. 

No doubt, he had let her rest because of the pregnancy. She sighs, but she knows the most she’ll say about it to him is a quiet scolding. 

Her legs swing over the side of the mattress just as a yawn graces her lips, and she slides her feet into the beige slippers beside the bed. She might as well get dressed and wait for Mitsuru to return downstairs. When she plops against the floor, standing up fully, Kokoro stretches her arms out high above her. “Ah...” comes her soft voice; she draws out the sound. 

The clothes in her closet are as fresh-smelling and wrinkle-less as always, so she picks her long white and cream dress to wear for today. By far, she wore this outfit the most—it was both elegant and casual, not to mention very soft to the touch and comfortable enough to wear all day. The top half had buttons at the torso and was more form-fitting than the long skirt portion, which extended all the way down to her ankles in a sleek flow. To tie the color palette together, there were brown panel accents at the shoulders and golden ones on the cuffs of the wrist-length sleeves. 

Once she slides it fully over her head, slips her arms through, and flattens the hem out, Kokoro grabs her thick-bristled brush and begins to make her hair neat again. When it was long, her blonde, wavy curls had been a pain to brush out and even wash, which was one of the reasons why she decided to cut it short in the first place. Mitsuru often complimented her by saying it suited her well—definitely more refined and mature-looking than her previous style. After a few more minutes, her hair is completely brushed, and Kokoro slides her lacy headband onto her head. 

One final yawn flutters through her lips before she feels awake enough to move downstairs. The morning sunshine seems to have lifted her spirits considerably—she gazes out the window briefly at the clear blue sky, and then walks toward the bedroom door. Yes, Mitsuru would be back soon; the walk wasn’t that far. 

Her hand finds the cool metal doorknob, and she pulls inward when suddenly the door is pushed all the way in by someone on the other side. 

Kokoro yelps and retracts her hand, stepping backward to avoid being hit. 

Her husband is in the doorway. “M-Mitsuru-kun! You scared me!” She says it rather sheepishly as she feels her cheeks heat up for the briefest moment. Then, Kokoro steps over the threshold, looking up at him. Her hands are clasped, and the slightest giggle vibrates in her throat. Mitsuru looks like a mix of shock and embarrassment; a moment passes before he places a hand on her shoulder apologetically. 

”Sorry...” Ah, his voice is soft and sounds flustered, making Kokoro smile even broader. Even his composure and posture look disheveled from his normal relaxed, cool state. His hand flies up to scratch the back of his neck, and then his arms reach out to collect his wife into a hug. ”I didn’t think you’d be awake already. I was hoping you’d sleep in more...” 

The delicate features of Kokoro’s face are buried into Mitsuru’s chest, scrunched up with pleasure. She gets that fuzzy feeling in her chest, knowing he cares so much, and being able to spend time like this with him. Even if he’s being overly cautious, she did appreciate the little things like allowing her time to rest up. Though, sometimes she felt a little bit incapable when he did things like that... 

Kokoro is lost for a moment in a sudden bout of drowsiness that seeps into her brain—undoubtedly from Mitsuru’s loving warmth encircling her. She doesn’t want him to ever let go. She wants to stay in his embrace forever, but soon they’ll have to move on with their day. Not yet, though. “Dear, you’re very thoughtful for taking the kids alone, but you can wake me up next time. I slept well enough already. And...I like it when all of us are together...” 

Her voice drifts off. She thinks that feeling might be a universal one for all mothers—that longing to be connected with her family. 

”Okay... Sometimes I can’t help wanting to take care of you a little. A-And give you a break from everything. ” His tone has a twinge of guilt in it, maybe regret, too. But Kokoro squeezes him between her arms reassuringly, snuggling even closer. “But anyway, let’s have breakfast together, Kokoro-san.” 

Admittedly, it does sound nice. It’s still early in the day, so they certainly have enough time before the work demands their attention. It’s one of those days where Mitsuru will stay with her in the flower shop, as there was no pressing labor work to be done today. It hadn’t been like that for a few days in a row now. That gave him and Kokoro more time together, as well as a less strict schedule than normal. 

Stepping away from him—and slowly falling out of his grip—Kokoro folds her hands behind her back. The smile on her face is cute and cheeky. ”Then I’ll brew us some black tea.” 

Mitsuru reaches out, linking his arm with hers, and he doesn’t miss the blissful expression that spreads on Kokoro’s face. They begin walking down the stairs like this, bodies pressed up against each other in harmony. “I’ll cut some fruit. The kids had pancakes, but I didn’t have enough batter left to make any for us.” 

Oh? He seems to get more thoughtful by the day. 

”It’s okay... The thought is really sweet,” she hums, right as they descend to the first floor. “Fruit still sounds nice, though. We should go out in the afternoon and have a proper lunch later.” 

”Right.” Mitsuru’s mouth lifts up into a half-smile, half-smirk. 

Arms intertwined, they stride to the kitchen together. 

* * *

She loves how she can find such easy solace in him. It’s so quick that he can put her into a tranquil state like this, where she feels like she could tell him anything. Right now, she can feel _love_ —the word they were never taught, that both of them and all the other Parasites have slowly come to learn the meaning of. Even if it’s not the same as before, it’s still real and meaningful. It makes her feel a little guilty for wanting to dredge up the ancient history between them. She stirs a bit. 

”Let’s stay here for a while...” Kokoro rubs both of her palms on the warm ceramic of the mug. She scoots closer to him, so their thighs are touching. “Please? We don’t have to leave any time soon...” 

Mitsuru wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, his hand resting atop her slender bicep. When Kokoro looks up, her husband is side-eyeing her curiously, a mischievous glint in his vert irises as he sips his tea. “Just like this?” he asks, when he sets his drink down on the low coffee table right next to the half-eaten bowl of chopped fruits. 

”Yes...” she mewls, moving her hand to his opposite side, placing it on top of his hip. Her voice sounds a little like a moan, grumbly and quiet. “Sometimes... I just want to stay with you like this all day.” When her voice fades, there is a playful, quiet snort that comes from Mitsuru. He rubs his palms over the waves of her hair. “Mitsuru-kun.” Needy. That’s what she sounds like as she rubs his chest, lifting her leg up and curling it over Mitsuru’s thighs. 

Kokoro is partially on top of her husband when he grabs her by the chin and lifts her face up. And pushes her away slightly...? “You know we can’t do that right now,” Mitsuru speaks up, looking at her rather staunchly. 

”Mmm...” Kokoro’s gaze shifts around, her hand dropping slowly down Mitsuru’s front. “I know...” He doesn’t meet her eyes, even when she looks up placidly. It’s the perfect time to bring all of this up. A lump forms in her throat. Does she really want to...? If she can just part her lips, and spit out those words... “M...Mitsuru-kun, can I talk to you about something?” 

”Of course.” She hears him swallow a little, like he knows what she’s about to say. “Anything. You know you can tell me anything.” 

”I’ve felt that way before,” Kokoro says, “way back then... That feeling that I could say _everything_ around you.” A breath lets out, but it’s from Mitsuru. Kokoro stares, pressing him. “Even if it was something I shouldn’t say.” 

”Do you not feel that way now?” 

”N-No! I-I just mean to say that… What we have now, it feels familiar to me.” She looks down into her lap, and bites her lip. Why is she so nervous? And fumbling with her words? “Before that time in the Bird’s Nest, I feel… Like we were close back then, too.” 

Mitsuru shifts under her. “…I think I know what you mean. But it’s just so vague, like I can reach out for it but never grasp it fully.” Kokoro sighs. Maybe it relieves her that she isn’t the only one feeling so helpless and doubtful. So, what does he think about all of it? “It’s so strange…” His voice dies down into a meek whisper. 

”I…I think it still means something! It must! If we both remember these same emotions, we can’t be wrong about it. All of the others have said the same thing about the two of us, Mitsuru-kun, and I believe it’s still possible to—“ 

”—That’s enough, Kokoro-san.” Mitsuru says it with such a finality to his voice and tone that it makes Kokoro flinch for a moment. Her trance breaks, and she blinks, eyes shooting open and close to watering. He notices. As if to rectify the pain, Mitsuru slowly—very slowly—drops his palm down onto her shoulder. His thin eyebrows flit upward, in pity and shame. “We promised to make a new life together twice already.” He shows his ring finger for emphasis, and it glints in the dim light of the room. “You shouldn’t think about the first time, the stress will be bad for the baby.” 

And… Mitsuru’s hand falls down to her stomach, cupping it. All those years ago, it had been Ai in her belly, and both of them had been so unsure of all of their futures. Back then, she had let go of their pasts, so why can’t she now? Why is it at the center of her focus? She wants to say she’s too high strung from the pregnancy, but the other three hadn’t affected her like this. 

Her fingers are trembling. 

”I know that our relationship now is more important,” Kokoro says through a small sigh. Shaking her head, she rests her face into his shoulder. “Mitsuru-kun, I’m glad we can still be together like this after all this time. I’m glad we still have that connection, even if we can’t really remember…” 

She snuggles in closer, letting her posture fall limp and her breath flow out. 

Part of it, Kokoro feels, is a lie to herself. 

Maybe she wants to turn her face backwards, just to catch a glimpse.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the rating change and tags suggest, **there is sexual content in this chapter.** However, it's only in the second scene and the SFW scenes are separated from it by brackets! I made sure that not reading the NSFW didn't get in the way of the plot, as I know some people may not want to read that kind of thing. This will be the only chapter with any sexual content.
> 
> If you would like to skip this part, it begins at the first line break, and end at "The smile he gives her is soft and gentle,". 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Her baby bump is finally beginning to show more prominently, which means Mitsuru and Miku are both in a frenzy to truly get everything prepared and settled for the new arrival. It’s not that they weren’t before, it’s that seeing Kokoro with a rounded out belly makes the baby feel all the more tangible. Seeing proof of the life inside her gives them the big push to finalize everything. For Miku, it’s excitement, and for Mitsuru it’s anxiety, but also a hint of pride. That part of him has never really changed.

It also means that everyone’s been taking care of her more. There’s no shortage of her children being careful with her (and more obedient), her friends often assisting her with certain actions, or just random people offering to complete simple tasks for her when she’s strolling out and about.

Today, she’d invited Miku over for tea. Lunch, to broaden the term. After having Miku bring over a bundle of stuffed animals for the baby’s room, and then fussing over preparing their food and drinks, they had finally retired into the parlor near the front of the house. 

The drapes are spread wide open, sunlight flowing through, while Kokoro waters her flowerpot of morning-glories on the high table to the side. Miku had transferred their black tea-filled cups and small slices of tiramisu cakes down onto the coffee table, and before she sat down onto the couch she approached Kokoro from behind.

Like the usual, Miku creeps up and throws her arms around Kokoro’s waist, holding them snugly just above her hips and under her heavy breasts. She pushes into her, lightly and careful not to put too much pressure; she revels in the way Kokoro yelps through a gasp. The form-fitting, eggplant purple dress she has on crinkles against Kokoro’s bottom.

“M-Miku!” 

A laugh comes from Miku, who scrunches her fingers along the slight layer of fat at her sides. “ _Ko-ko-ro~_ ”

Kokoro is squirming, looking down at the offending hands. “I-I’m serious! I’m lighting this incense now, I don’t wanna get burned…!”

“Heh heh, right, right,” snorts Miku, who gives Kokoro’s bust a firm squeeze before pulling away. “What kind of scent is it this time?” She peeks her head over Kokoro’s side, leaning in. The incense stick is a light purple color, and already lit with a thin, white smoke billowing up. 

“Lavender,” says Kokoro warmly, setting the lighter down. “It’s supposed to be very soothing and calming. A lot of my books say it’s also good for mothers to inhale after delivering a child.” 

“Well, you should’ve told me sooner!” Miku holds her finger up in faux accusation, waggling it decisively. “I would’ve brought some for all the other births! But I guess it’s better late than never.”

Kokoro turns around, smile on her face, and rubs her plump stomach subconsciously. “That’s very kind of you, Miku… I’ll look forward to it.”

Miku stares at the circles Kokoro makes with her delicate fingers, and her soft palm. “Oh, it’s getting really big.” She says this as she crouches down to the baby’s level, reaching one hand out to lightly touch where Kokoro’s stomach protrudes. She smooths her palm along the curve of it, ruffling up the periwinkle maternity gown Kokoro is wearing. “How far along are you again?”

“Six months,” giggles Kokoro, clasping a hand over her mouth. Has it really been that long already? Maybe it’s just because she’s eagar—so eager to have this baby that the time has flown by. 

“And that means…” Miku leans in closer, staring up at Kokoro with a wonder-filled glint in her eyes, “I should be able to hear its heartbeat by now, right? You’re an expert on this stuff, eh, Kokoro, so you should know best!”

There is a small inclination of her head, and a muffled laugh with her mouth closed. “Ah, but Auntie Miku has taken care of me the last three times, so isn’t she the expert?” There is a bright blush on Miku’s part as she looks up at her friend annoyedly. Kokoro laughs it off good-naturedly, of course. “Mmhm. If you put your ear against it, you’ll hear it for sure! Mitsuru-kun—“ _Thump_ “—has been doing it all the time lately.” To have still Miku so invested in her pregnancies truly means a lot to her. 

“Ah…” The side of Miku’s head slowly sidles up right against Kokoro’s bump, pressing in closer and shutting her eyes to focus on the sound. Kokoro’s hand reaches down to ruffle Miku’s long hair, calmly running her fingers through the auburn-gray mix, up and down. Miku is quiet for a few seconds, lost in the moment and listening to the white noise of Kokoro’s womb. Then— “Aha! There it is! I can totally hear it now…”

“Do you?” In response to that, Miku nods her head while still against her belly. She seems…mesmerized. A tinge of pink fills Kokoro’s cheeks. “You’ve listened to the other three before, but do you think you can tell the difference, Miku? I’ve just been wondering, since Mitsuru-k-kun—“ _Bump_ “—says it’s too faint.” She hums, almost like she’s pondering the question herself. After all, Kokoro’s never been able to press her own ear against her stomach and listen to any of her children’s heartbeats. 

Miku freezes, listens in again, and takes her ear off. She glances back up at Kokoro. “Hmmm…” Her hand goes up to tap her chin briefly, considering the question before standing back up again, pushing her ginger waves behind her shoulders. “Everyone has a different heartbeat, but it’s really too hard to tell!” She pauses again. “Sounds the same to me, but I can tell which one is yours, Kokoro.”

“Yeah, Mitsuru-kun says that, too…” — _Ba-dump_. This time, a wince comes from her. She’d said it three times in just this conversation. She needs to cut it out and—

“—So, do you know if you’re having a boy or girl yet?” Miku asks, snapping Kokoro back to attention. “I know you can tell these things by now. So, what did Ikuno tell you? I’ve really been dying to know!”

Kokoro blinks. A slow smile creeps onto her face, and she cups her chin. “O-Oh…” With Ai, it had been harder for them to tell the gender prenatally, so they hadn’t known until birth. The same was for Katsu, though books and computer databases had provided them enough information to make an educated guess. By the time she’d been pregnant with Sakura, Ikuno, Naomi, and the other doctors were skilled enough to determine her gender from ultrasound pictures. 

“Well,” Kokoro starts, rubbing her sleeve with her palm, “Ikuno knows, i-it’s just that we wanted to be surprised this time…”

“Ehh?! But don’t you wanna know?!” Miku ends up shaking shaking Kokoro’s shoulders—lightly, of course—in defeat, a wobbly frown on her lips. “I hate not knowing! The suspense is just too much!” She says it in an obviously fake distress-filled voice, making Kokoro giggle at her friend’s antics. 

Then, Miku collapses—“faints”—into Kokoro, snuggling up to her bosom and wrapping her arms around her in a hug again. “Oh, I don’t know how I’ll go on,” she says dramatically, looking up at Kokoro with puppy dog eyes. 

“Mou, I’m sure you’ll survive until it’s born,” Kokoro chides, but she brings Miku’s head close to her chest and cups the back of her head. “Auntie Miku can’t get all mopey when she needs to take care of us~” 

Her voice is so soft and warm that Miku doesn’t even look up—she lets herself hug Kokoro more, fall into her more, sighing into the comfort of her motherly hold. Kokoro embraces her back just as gently, slowly inclining her neck to kiss the top of Miku’s head.

They stay like this for a while, silent—because everything they could possibly say in this moment is something unspoken that they both already know. Every day, Kokoro’s grateful her long and lasting bond with Miku had never been so cruelly taken away from her mind. 

And then… Her stomach gives the tiniest growl. 

Miku still picks up on it and snickers as she pulls back, while Kokoro gasps softly. 

“Sounds like the baby’s still hungry,” says Miku, gesturing back towards their cakes and drinks on the table. 

“Ah, I almost forgot…” Kokoro says sheepishly, cupping her own cheek and then following Miku’s steps to the plush couch. “Then, let’s talk about _you_ now…”

* * *

Along with the swelling of her belly…her hormones are starting to kick in more _feverishly_ than before. 

Mitsuru has dealt with this kind of thing three times already, so what does a fourth matter? Kokoro is usually exhausted at the end of every day—which means Mitsuru has to be the one to satisfy her. These times are strange, because when she’s not pregnant, Kokoro is the one who normally takes charge. 

He’ll satisfy her to the best of his ability.

“Mitsuru-kun…” comes her quiet moaning. It’s been like this for a few days straight now. She’s laying down on the bed, body stretched out amongst the silky white sheets and fluffy pillows. 

They’ve both already retired for the night, as it had been late anyways. As such, they’re clad in their nightwear. 

Kokoro’s hair is free in its curled bob, her headband tossed to the side on her nightstand. Her gown is short and thin, outlining her growing breasts and ample baby bump, as well as her hips. She shifts on top of the covers, her legs spreading a little as she moans in that needy tone. 

And in between— When Mitsuru looks down at the little sliver he can see between his wife’s thick thighs, he can see that she’s…not wearing any panties.

Slowly, slowly, slowly…Mitsuru discards each piece of his pajamas, sliding the long-sleeved top over his head and shaking the baggy pants off his legs. All the while, Kokoro swallows like there’s a lump in her throat, her nipples growing hard underneath her sheer nightgown. 

Mitsuru poises himself over her, now only in his briefs. “You don’t have to say my name…” he sighs, but while giving her a weary smile. _Hopeless, she’s so hopeless. But in the perfect way._ One hand that had been planted into the mattress next to Kokoro’s head goes up to caress her cheek. 

Her gaze flies up to meet his. “I...I want to. It’s not as bad anymore, you know…” And Mitsuru shakes his head, but Kokoro gives a half-smile as she tugs on the hem of her nightgown. “It feels right. I know I shouldn’t too much, because it gives me those flashbacks, but I think it’s okay for times like these!”

“That’s what we’ve always done, right?” muses Mitsuru—who can fully recall all those times they’d been intimate, shouting each other’s names until their voices became hoarse or the sun began to rise (whichever came first). 

That makes Kokoro laugh a little, though her cheeks are still red with arousal and her legs are still clenched tightly together. 

Right. This isn’t the time for such idle chat. 

Mitsuru leans down briefly to kiss her on the cheek. “Do you feel alright?” A stifled nod comes from Kokoro, though her head remains jerked back and resting on the pillows. Then, the real question (making Mitsuru look a bit awkwardly away): “D-Do you want to be naked? If you’re too cold, it’d be best for the baby if—“ 

“—I-I don’t want any blankets or anything,” she mumbles, her lower half clenching up a bit. Mitsuru puts his hand atop her smooth vagina and it twitches slightly. Kokoro instructs rather feebly, “...Just take me, okay?”

Mitsuru swallows, though not loud enough to hear. He looks at her and lifts the hem of her dress up, pushing it back over her stomach and breasts until it’s clumped up at her neck. He’s seen this all before, so many times. Kokoro’s same face flashes past, going from older to younger, some below him and most above. But his mind lingers on one in particular, the last one (or should he say, the earliest) that flashes into memory—one that’s pensive, blushing, filling him in on instructions…

So Mitsuru shakes his head lightly, turning his attention back to the present Kokoro. When he stares into those rich blue eyes, he already knows what she wants him to do first. 

His palm falls back down, rubbing over the curve of her vagina, and then two fingers slowly stick out and slide along its front, taunting her. Kokoro shivers underneath him, hugging herself tightly at her bosom, waiting. She spreads her legs wider without coaxing, as if silently begging for her lust to be fulfilled—though, maybe it’s simply a reflex at this point. 

Kokoro’s chest moves up and down evenly, her fingers latching onto the sides of her breasts still. Mitsuru spreads his index and middle fingers, finding each side of her centerfold and opening them further. Her breathing halts, holding her exhale in.

Swiftly, Mitsuru jabs two fingers inside, gently but still with force behind it. It catches even Kokoro off guard due to the abruptness, and she lets out a curt, high-pitched yelp, her head flying back into the pillows again. At the same time, her legs had also scrunched up closer, making the feeling of Mitsuru’s fingers in her so much tighter and pleasurable. 

“A-Aah…!” Kokoro nibbles on her bottom lip as Mitsuru moves his fingers back and forth, giving her small pumps in and out, building up the energy. Her back arches a bit, but she slowly begins to calm down after getting in tune with Mitsuru’s pacing. Some of it is unpredictable--with a hard thrust in between soft tickling, or a flurry of gentleness before an even more aggressive storm of his fingertips pelting her walls. 

It’s so amazing, so pleasurable. Everything she’d wanted and more thrice over. The pregnancy is hard, but Mitsuru’s good at taking care of her like this when she most needs the relief. He’s always been good at indulging her hormones. God, she’s been craving this for so long; by the end of this week, the relentless dirty talk and masturbation just hadn’t been enough. This was a much-needed break for her, and much-needed intimacy away from it all. 

The two fingers stroke her _hard_ right in the same spot, at the same time, in perfect harmony. 

“Mitsuru-kun—!” Amidst her ecstasy, Kokoro finds her fists clenching the fabric of her nightgown, small moans escaping her throat in hot, raspy breaths as Mitsuru goes along. She can feel the pads of his slim fingers sliding along her walls, as if taunting her again. “O-Oh! I-I—!”

And for a second, there is a brief pause. 

Mitsuru adjusts himself on his knees, parting Kokoro’s legs further as he crawls closer to her vagina. His fingers still inside, he inches his other hand along Kokoro’s thigh, tapping her fair skin all the way up to her crotch. 

Her vagina quivers again in anticipation. 

He strokes the insides of her thighs, both sides, sending shivers up Kokoro spine. He waggles the fingers inside, making her clamp a hand over her mouth. Then, with the free hand, Mitsuru brings it up to the top of her slit, opening her warm folds until her clit is in full view. 

It’s swollen pink from the abuse Kokoro has done to it this week. But it’s still begging to be stimulated more by Mitsuru’s eager fingers. 

So he extends one, resting it on top and making Kokoro squirm and whimper again. Her swirls his fingertip around, flicking up and down until Kokoro is white hot with arousal. By now, her cheeks are dark maroon and her palms are sweaty. Even her legs and arms are a rosy color. 

And her knees… She’s laying down, but they feel weak like jelly, collapsing into each other and going slack. 

At the same time that Mitsuru is fondling her clit, he shoves his other hand deeper into her vagina, until both fingers are nearly at his third and final knuckle. 

“I almost forgot how good you feel, Kokoro-san…” That’s a lie. It’s impossible for him to forget just how tender yet tough Kokoro could be with him. The lie is made even more obvious by the smirk on Mitsuru’s face that he can’t hold back, which in turn makes Kokoro half-smile wearily.

Mitsuru sticks his thumb out, then, and presses firmly into her clit again, with so much passion and force that it seems like it’ll burst at any moment. 

“M-Mitsuru-kun!” she gasps, her voice only a bare squeak. The blissful pain in her tone is evident, also indicated by the way her eyes squeeze shut. “Please—!”

Kokoro...urges her body closer to his?

Mitsuru shakes his head, pulling the hand that’d been on her clit away. Inside her, his fingers stretch, and then Mitsuru adds a third one—his ring finger. Specifically, his left hand, where the thin metal ring still resides. Tiny bursts of moans come from Kokoro in a myriad, their pitch resting at a monotone. 

He stuffs it up so far that when the cold metal hits her lips, Kokoro lets out a wretch, and even shivers. “Mmmmm— Ah!” She lets the feeling overtake her, making her toes wiggle and scrunch up, a bout of intensity shooting up through her body. Her hole becomes even warmer, engulfing Mitsuru’s fingers even more tightly. Now, her back arches, her climax releasing as she goes quiet, collapsing back onto the soft bed where she’s cushioned by pillows and blankets. Mitsuru’s fingers pull out, freshly wet and sticky.

One by one, he lifts each finger to his mouth and laps them clean. Right in front of Kokoro, where she can clearly see—though, her expression is far more relaxed, as is her posture. “You’re always so divine,” he says, placing both hands onto either of Kokoro’s thighs. They had always been his weak point; he squeezes them in his palms, running his hands up and down her curves. 

Kokoro giggles, attempting to stifle it with a slender hand over her mouth. However, this just makes Mitsuru flustered on the inside (any indication of that on the outside is the way his cheeks slightly tint and his smirk turns crooked). 

Spurred to action, he pulls her closer by the legs, making Kokoro yelp in surprise, but her tone is filled with a certain glee. A bubbly laugh erupts from her again. “Ne, Mitsuru-kun, what are you going to do now?” There’s a sort of excitedness in her voice when she says this, coaxing him to take charge again. But really, when she’s guiding him like this--telling him what to do just by the looks she gives him and the simplest of phrases--who’s _really_ in charge? She had always been the one to carefully direct him in her subtle, gentle way.

“You’ll see,” says Mitsuru, maybe with a bit of mischief in his tone. First, his neck inclines, and he places his lips onto the smooth flesh of one of her thighs. He sucks on the fat, going along the inner path, leaving small hickeys as he works. Kokoro’s sweet, quiet moans fill his ears like the melody of a love ballad. While he’s licking up one thigh, he’s delicately stroking the other, playfully teasing the area near her vagina. He leaves a trail of hickeys up one thigh and then back down the other.

“D-Dear…” Kokoro winces, one eye scrunching shut. His saliva is wet and cold along her skin, making her shiver a bit. Mitsuru leaves more hickeys on her other thigh, marking it as his own. “A-Ah…” Again, his neck arches down, and he flicks his tongue. Their stares meet. Mitsuru looks back down, then runs his tongue up her slit-- _slowly, slowly,_ drawing it out so she feels every lick. 

Understandably, oral was easily close to the top of the list of sexual pleasures Kokoro enjoyed the most. The same couldn’t be said for Mitsuru about receiving (he preferred Kokoro using her _hands_ with him), but he had no problem with _giving_. He did it rather frequently, actually.

The tip of his tongue retracts, and then he widens the space between her legs, and finally...the tip peeks out again, elegantly sliding on top of her clit like a fountain pen gliding along parchment paper, some of its wet saliva tickling her folds as if it were ink being absorbed into the page. Her whole body trembles as Mitsuru licks in circles, his hands holding onto her hips tightly for support, making sure his leverage is proper. 

Eventually, those hands fall to cup her supple butt, his fingers clasping each cheek as he now begins to lap up her fluids more aggressively. Each slick of his tongue sends a vivid spout of taste through his mouth, which only makes him greedier. 

Mitsuru’s tongue moves down to tease her hole, making Kokoro mewl. She’s holding onto the mattress, grasping at the sheets and buckling her hips. Her walls are tender from both the fingering and how much closer her due date in. When Mitsuru finally sticks his tongue inside, it almost feels as if it’s pulsing more from before. Kokoro’s lust is wild and raw, like an animal in heat--it’s only natural with how high-strung she is, and how badly her hormones and pheromones are out of balance. 

He jabs his tongue in and out, repeating the cycle as his hands move to massage her inner thighs, soothingly caressing every inch of her skin. The red marks of his hickeys are just beginning to show, burning brightly against the fair color of her skin. Grabbing her butt again, Mitsuru lifts her up slightly while taking his tongue back out, and begins to lick up and down her slit again, going over each hole.

Mitsuru stops at her clit, dropping Kokoro back down gently onto the bed and dragging her forward again. Now, he goes over her body again fully, lifting his knees over to either side of Kokoro’s waist. 

“M-Mitsuru-kun…” When he looks down at his wife’s face, her cheeks are a rosy pink color, full of life and energy. The look in her eyes is loving and sweet, but with a certain fiery passion in their deep blueness--as vast and beautiful as the ocean. “We can r-rest now, if you’d like… I feel better.” She smiles up at him brightly. Mitsuru bends downward to lay his face atop her chest. “A-Ah! U-Unless… I don’t want to leave you hanging like this, so if you want me to, I can--.”

“--Just let me…” Mitsuru stops and hums, listening to the beat of her heart. The same heartbeat that his unborn child is listening to at this same moment. “One more thing, and that’s it. You don’t need to do anything for me. I know how hard it is on you, Kokoro-san, so just let me take care of you right now.”

His head lifts up, right as he drags out a kiss upon her lips. When Mitsuru goes down again, his hands cup either one of her breasts, squeezing them just as Kokoro yelps in surprise. Though, the yelp is sweet and silky, turning quickly into one of pleasure. Her breasts are soft and fluffy like marshmallows, and just as pliable. Mitsuru presses in with all his fingers, and even more fat pours over out of his hands. Pregnancy makes them even plumper and twice as bouncy. 

“Lovely…” Her nipples go hard as Mitsuru plays with them, circling the areola with one cold fingertip. He flicks each nipple, touching the tip of it playfully. A chorus of moans and steamy breaths come from Kokoro, who juts her chest out but has her head turned to the side, resting on the pillows.

Naturally, after groping her breasts, he dips his head down to suckle on her nipples. His tongue licks the sensitive flesh at her breasts’ tips, sliding over all of the bumps. Going back and forth between the two, he leaves a trail of saliva along her cleavage. There’s not so much that it’s dripping, but just enough that Kokoro can feel its wetness. After traveling, he stops at the left breast, squeezing the underside and then tracing along its curve. His lips surround her nipple again, and this time he nibbles her skin lightly. Mitsuru does the same to the opposite side, leaving even more little hickeys along her pink nipples and fair breasts.

He lifts himself up as a soothing sigh seeps through his lips. “...There. I’m fine with just that.” And just like that, Mitsuru pulls her clumped up nightgown down over the rest of her body, smoothing the fabric so it’s free of wrinkles. All the while, the slightest bit of maroon dusts his cheeks.

Kokoro sits up a little, a tiny grin on her face. “Thank you, dear. I’m sure you already know from before that it really helps relax me… A-Ah, that sounds bad, but--!” Now, she’s sitting up fully, giggling a bit. “You know what I mean. I feel a lot calmer when I’m not craving it so badly…” 

“Yeah, I understand,” Mitsuru says, leaving a kiss atop her belly before tugging his clothes back on. He yawns and presses his head against his pillow. “Let’s cuddle for a while. It’ll help you fall asleep faster.”

* * *

The smile he gives her is soft and gentle, something not as rare as it had once been when everyone else had gone to space, when Kokoro had stayed behind and held Zero Two in the freezing rain and Mitsuru had made that promise to her. 

Even with his angular features, it still looks natural and...radiant. 

Kokoro decides there isn’t a better word than that to describe it. It’s the same kind of smile he started to get when he’d care for her and Ai, when all the pieces started to click. When she was pregnant with Katsu, and then Sakura, the smile was almost permanent and instinctual. 

If she really tries, when she remembers those plants around him, she sees that smile on his face, too. Long ago, during those talks in the greenhouse—that must be when. Kokoro remembers glimpses of that, and of course Miku and Zorome have told them their fair share of times when they’d walked in on the two spending time together there. Had that really been their “special place”?

Recognizing the garden when Mitsuru stands amongst the green nature of their backyard… It’s really not a fluke, if she thinks of it almost while straining herself. If she thinks his name and recalls those times as a child, so long ago, she can see him sitting on a stool, or looking out the seafoam-tinted class. 

But it bothers her that she can never remember what they talked about. 

She shifts back down into a lying position, shaking her head as if she hadn’t just been pondering all of that. “Mmm.” Kokoro brings the blanket up to her neck, nearly all the way to her chin, and turns a bit to the side. Mitsuru is staring at her, likely because she’d been sitting up and not saying anything for a brief few seconds. 

Kokoro knows this, and only smiles back, lifting her arms up and wrapping them around his chest, encircling him with warmth. She pulls him close, hugging onto him tight while turned slightly onto her side. Her head is resting on his shoulder, right near the crook of his neck. 

“You know,” Mitsuru says suddenly, but in a quiet voice, putting his hand atop one of Kokoro’s at his side, “every time we do this, I can remember a little more about...the other times.”

“Oh!” squeaks Kokoro, looking at him quite hopefully. Her eyes sparkle a bit. “You mean, those times before--”

“--Yes,” says Mitsuru bashfully, as if avoiding talking about it. It’s silly, because they’ve been doing this for long, and they’ve been together for so long. There’s no reason for him to be so embarrassed, but Kokoro can mostly understand where he’s coming from; talking about their pasts as kids--pasts they can’t quite recall aside from faint inklings--seems so clumsy and foreign and unsure that sometimes neither one of them can help but be sheepish.

Mitsuru finally lets out a breath he’d been holding and runs his other hand through his olive-brown hair. “I’ve been piecing it together for a while. After doing it all the time, it’s been pretty simple to figure out what those images mean.”

“And? What was it like?” She can’t help the giddy curiosity that seeps into her tone. Its quality reminds her of when her children ask for dessert before supper. 

“You don’t remember?”

For some reason, that question stings more than it should, especially the way Mitsuru says it—with hints of shock on the edges of his voice. His brows are creased. The weight of his words hits Kokoro like a brick wall, and she swallows before loosely playing with the curled ends of her hair. 

“W-Well, only a little... Mostly, I can only remember the emotions I felt.” Next to her, Mitsuru relaxes marginally, his gaze softening. Kokoro taps her chin, as if she feels she has to explain more. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to get you all worked up, Mitsuru-kun!—“ _Pang_ “—I c-can only remember a few specific parts of my memories, almost like photographs. I remember your bare chest, and the way the moonlight filtered into that room, and you below me, between my thighs ...”

Kokoro’s grip tightens on Mitsuru, grasping his pajama fabric in her fists. It’s a good thing she’s so used to tuning out the aches in her head, but she swears they’ve been getting more vibrant lately. 

“Don’t be sorry. And anyway, I was just curious about what you could recall, that’s all.” His hand travels down, finding hers and gently squeezing. The pressure of her baby bump against his side is warm and comforting. “I always see your face, your lips kissing me. I see your hands on my body, and I can hear you shouting my name.” He coughs slightly. “A-And what you said about you feeling things, I can’t remember any emotions like that. It’s the opposite for me, because I can remember different movements, and certain things you’d say to me, but not exactly how I felt at the time. They’re really special to me, so I always hold on to those...”

Ah... Kokoro suddenly feels her cheeks heat up, and a graceful smile dashes across her lips. “Mou, how cute!” She nuzzles her face into his neck, the ends of her soft hair surely tickling his chin. “Tell me! Tell me what kinds of things I’d say to you, oh please!” 

There is longing to know that makes her act so pushy. Is that the same reason why she’s so much clingier with him now? Or is it just another side-effect of her pregnancy? 

“N-Not now! It’s too late at night to get so serious...” She notices how he’d stuttered it out. “In the morning, we’ll have scrambled eggs and toast, and I’ll tell you over tea and coffee.” Even though she’s a little disappointed, she can’t help but agree, and enjoys the way Mitsuru slowly and carefully caresses the top of her head, going from her scalp all the way down to her nape. A sigh releases from him. “We should both rest now, Kokoro-san. I love you.”

Her eyes flutter closed, and a small, elegant grin goes across her features, complete with the pink dusting of her cheeks. “I love you, too, Mitsuru-kun.”

And when the pain hits again, giving her an image of Mitsuru holding her in his arms, her front against his, both naked and in a familiar bunk-bed, she lets that be the last soothing sight she sees before sleep takes her.


	4. IV.

The headaches only seem to worsen as her pregnancy goes along.

It’s strange, because this had never happened with the other three. Maybe at the beginning of when she’d been pregnant with Ai, but that had clearly been due to the erasure being fresh. Now the memories seem to be coming back, slowly seeping into her psyche, after a decade of being stuck deep inside her mind. 

It’s as if the wiping had faded away some, getting sharper but still fuzzy around the edges. 

While cracking eggs into a bowl, something about what Mitsuru had said last night clicks in her, festering in her brain. Is the reason she keeps having flare-ups because of her emotions during pregnancy? It would make sense since the most she’d remember about her true past at other times were fleeting feelings, overtaking the false visions. In fact, the more Kokoro thinks about it, the intensity of her headaches had only happened recently, when the memory of the wedding combined with her friends’ testimonials had floated back into her brain, and she’d shared it with Mitsuru. It must be because she _wants_ to remember again, something she’d never tried to do since she’d had Ai. 

When the last yolk falls with a _plop_ down into the bowl—cushioned by eggwhites—Kokoro stares blankly into the tiled, mosaic wall of the kitchen, her mouth a straight line. The stress of pregnancy had most definitely been getting to her as of late, especially during the mornings after particularly exhausting days and nights. She’s groggy and achy this morning, and everything seems to strike a nerve.

She grabs her fork and starts whisking them, stirring the eggs into a thick batter of smooth yellow. Then a sprinkle of pepper and salt, though she’s careful not to mix in too much pepper, because Sakura’s quite picky with that in particular. More whisking until Kokoro spills the bowl’s contents into the hot, searing pan.

There’s the scrambled eggs.

The slices of bread pop out from the metal toaster on the corner of the countertop. Next to it, a plate, and a stick of salted butter. When Kokoro saunters over, she begins to spread it on each golden-brown slice.

There’s the toast. 

And between the toaster and stove lies the coffeemaker, already brewing away. The dark brown liquid slowly drips down into the big glass pot below the spout. 

There’s the coffee.

Next to the eggs, a pot is boiling black tea, with five small serving cups lined up on the counter next to it.

And there’s the coffee.

Kokoro sighs in satisfaction, taking her apron off smoothly. 

She’s holding him up to his promise.

* * *

The bathroom on the main floor of their house is rather plain and simple when compared to the other rooms, which had been meticulously designed by Kokoro in different pastel shades. This room had almost seemed to be an afterthought. 

That wasn’t to say it didn’t look nice—the amenities and walls all matched well—but it gave off the aesthetic of being more traditional and calm than the rest of their very modern-looking house. 

In a way, it reminds Mitsuru of the large bathing room back in Mistilteinn. He has half a mind to think believe that Kokoro had wanted it to feel that way. It was something comfortable and familiar for her, after all. 

Like the boarding house, two dark, wooden sliding doors provided the entrance to the bathroom, with little cut-outs of blurred, foggy glass near the very top. The floor is made up of large, eggshell-colored tiles that aren’t completely smooth; the slight texture makes them more grip-able and non-slip. There are half-circle, tea-green mats at the foots of the two sinks to the right of the door. Their basins are low and a bright, pure white color, each with a stainless steel spout and a long, rectangle mirror above them on the beige wall. The shower to the far side of the door is tall and cubic, made of pristine, clear glass. A transparent shower mat was inside of it, and an elegantly twisted emerald towel hung off its outside handle. 

Opposite the sinks and shower stall is the long, rectangular tub, with enough room to fit at least six people. It’s made of a polished kind of stone, with a jade color. The bottom of it has scrubbing stone and salt minerals embedded in it. The water inside is fragrant, its aroma like pond lilies and bright pink lotus blossoms basking in a beautiful sunlight. Currently, its temperature is warm, but not scorching; it _is_ hot enough that a translucent pillow of stream gently wafts upwards and fills the bathroom, however. 

Mitsuru had gone in with the children for a quick morning soak before breakfast, as Kokoro had insisted on preparing it despite his quick objections. Plus, she had said that today she preferred to take a long bath alone later, meaning that it was probably best to leave her be for now. Her mood-swings had probably started kicking in now, especially from the stress of her due date inching closer.

For the moment, though, Mitsuru is mostly submerged underneath the aquamarine bathwater, with only his nose, ears, and eyes above the surface. And while his expression is somewhat glazed and sleepy--partially from how early it is, partially from the warmth of the soothing bath--he’s still keeping careful watch on his three children. 

Ai is the farthest away from him, at the edge of the long end of the tub. She’s leaning over the railing, dripping water down its side and onto the floor. Her cinder blonde locks are in their usual braid, and then her braid is twisted on top of her head and clipped on the top, running vertically along her scalp. Above Ai’s bangs is a towel headband, in a deep blue color, holding her hair into place and preventing any stray strands from falling into the bath water. Her vert eyes are passive and her expression overall is placid, yet leaning toward slightly uninterested. 

Next is Katsu, in the thick of everything. His own fluffy blond hair is bouncing as he plays with a rubber duck that floats along the water, and dives under the surface for short periods, seeing how long he can hold his breath for. He was never one to be short on energy, but Mitsuru doesn’t know where he gets it from, since both he and Kokoro had been relatively quiet and reserved people. 

The littlest, Sakura, is squirming and splashing all around the tub. Her olive-brown hair is short enough that it only goes to her shoulders, so it doesn’t touch the water’s surface. Her choppy bangs and ends of her hair look odd, as usually Kokoro liked to tie her hair up into a short ponytail. A while ago, Sakura had been playing with Mitsuru, but as he relaxed she began to get restless. Now, she was reaching her chubby arms out of the tub and calling for her mother. 

“Mama! Mama!”

Ai moves over to hold her little sister back. “Sakura, don’t lean like that or you’ll fall over the edge.” Her tone is gentle although scolding; she really is just like Kokoro through and through. Sakura stops moving and stares up at her older sister, clasping her tiny hands together with watery eyes. “It’s okay…”

With the doors open, Kokoro can clearly hear her mewls from the kitchen. After a few moments comes her muffled voice, “Mama will be right there with your clothes, Sakura!”

Sakura keeps squirming, with a wobbly frown on her face. She apparently had had enough of her bath, but luckily, as Mitsuru could tell by the smells coming in from the the rest of the house, breakfast was done and served. 

Mitsuru lets out a sigh and sits up further, reaching out to soothe Sakura. Ai swims back to her spot from before and adjusts her hair. “Come here, Sakura. We’ll all get out soon, okay?” He pets Sakura on the head, smiling at her wearily.

“Mmnn, Papa! Sakura wants to get out now, Papa…!” She looks up at her father with the same sort of pleading in her eyes. 

“Mama’s bringing your towel and clothes…” He inclines his neck to kiss the top of her head. “Now, go and play with your brother and sister before Mama comes.”

“--Papa’s right!” cuts in Katsu, approaching his younger sister and gently grabbing her by the hand, coaxing her. “C’mon, Sakura, it’ll be fun! Look, there’s pink and green ducks for you and Ai!” He points to said rubber ducks that are on the thicker edge of the bath, the side that touches the wall. 

Ai hears mention of her name and drifts over to grab the mint-colored one, a slow and soft smile like honey spreading on her face. “That’s right, Sakura, we’ll have rubber duck races, okay?” Ai offers the pastel pink duck to Sakura, who ‘Ooo’s at it, marveling its soft features as she swims off with Ai to the corner. 

With that resolved, Mitsuru sinks back down into the water. 

He closes his eyes. He sees himself in the bathhouse at Plantation 13 again. 

His brows crease. 

But Mitsuru doesn’t open his eyes. He can still hear Sakura cooing and complaining, Ai comforting her and playing with her, and Katsu making his own duck swim along the artificial waves he makes with his underwater kicks, but his mind’s eye shows a different vision.

_Kokoro is next to him, covering her breasts with her palms and submerging them in the water. Her cheeks are bright and warm, but her shy smile is absolutely gorgeous. Her rich blue eyes are closed, enjoying the moment. Tied up with a white towel is hair, but in this vision it’s clearly long..._

That’s how Mitsuru can tell that this is something...repressed. The crease-lines between his brows grow stronger as a brief surge of pain rushes through him. Yes, Kokoro had always been the one who dared to rock the boat. What had she said to him a few months ago? _I’ve felt that way before, way back then._

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her words every once and a while since then. 

_Thick steam billows all around them, contained within the room, making it even hotter inside. It’s humid, he can feel the sensation on his skin. Their backs are to the doors._

_“I’m glad we can do this kind of thing together, Mitsuru-kun,” says the Kokoro in his head, even though the vision blurs in and out of focus. He doesn’t even see her face, just a still image of the tub in front of him. Like a painting._

Even when the visual aspect of his memories fail, that sweet, soft voice is as clear as glass in his head, replaying these hidden moments.

_“I think you’re really opening up. You’ve come a long way, a-and I’m proud of you for that...”_

_An image fades back in, this time his hand underwater, palm facing up, just near the surface. The water looks sheer, as thin as glass._

_For a few moments, there is only silence._

_Kokoro speaks up again, “—N-No, I just like spending time with you, that’s all!”_

It leaves Mitsuru thoroughly confused for a moment. What’s she talking about? Then he realizes—this is a conversation told only in pieces. Whenever he tries to recollect something from _those times,_ he can only hear _her_ voice. Mitsuru, try as he might, can never remember anything he’s ever said to her before their minds were wiped. 

The way she speaks so fondly is...cute. Without his deadpan tone or snarky remarks, he can absorb her feelings in the full just through her words. Though he hates to admit it, he feels more connected with her when he can see this closeness and openness they had once had when they had originally fallen in love. In a way, it’s odd to know how they had first come to adore each other as more than strangers, and then more than partners. 

_Another pause._

_“It’s intimate in the garden, too, it’s just that I feel more intimate when we’re...close like this.”_

_Then, an image of Kokoro’s side profile. Though it’s blurry, he can make out the pensive look on her face, her downturned eyes, yet the rosy hue of her cheeks. She’s looking down into the water, speaking rather hesitantly, but very genuinely._

The part where he is supposed to say something… Mitsuru concentrates hard, but all he feels is the vibrations from his voice. The voice of the Mitsuru deep in his brain. He must’ve said something to strike a nerve with her, because the next image conjured up by his mind rapidly forces its way into his vision.

_Kokoro’s eyes are wide, but her gaze is sharp. “Just because we’re more vulnerable in here doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing,” she says. “Remember what I’ve said, Mitsuru-kun, you’ve got to learn to put more trust into people…”_

That advice… He desperately wants to know how he’d responded to that. In the memories APE had fabricated and placed into him, it was _Ikuno_ who had encouraged him to step out of his comfort zone--to forgive Hiro and place himself in the activities of the rest of the squad. Given her slightly cynical and introverted personality, however, it wasn’t hard to believe that Kokoro had been the one to teach him these lessons.

_“I-I know it won’t happen all at once…”_

Her line comes quicker this time, with less beats of silence in between.

_The image shifts to the other side of his head. Undoubtedly, he’s looking in the other direction. He can imagine himself rolling his eyes at her words, snapping a sarcastic quip at her silly words and ideals._

_“O-Of course, you’re doing a great job! But what I mean to say is…is that I want you to experience new things like this. Being vulnerable rather than in the safety of our greenhouse can be good for a change. It’s more relaxing in this hot water, isn’t it, Mitsuru-kun?”_

_‘It is,’ he wants to say. He yearns to speak especially when Kokoro smiles at him, her supple cheeks moist with the humidity. What had he said to her? He senses the low vibrations again, weaker than before._

_All visuals fade into the ripples of the water._

_“H-Huh? A-Ah! I did use ‘our’, didn’t I…”_

The real Mitsuru smiles. _Cute._ He’s willing to bet that he had laughed softly at that, or maybe just grinned while she wasn’t looking.

“—Mama!”

Mitsuru snaps to attention. His eyes are glazed over as if he had been sleeping moments prior. 

“Yes, I’m here Sakura. Stand up so Mama can take you out,” the real Kokoro says, approaching the tub with a fluffy towel spread in her arms. 

“O-Okay, Mama. Sakura is hungry for breakfast!” Eagerly, their youngest gets as close to the edge as she can, waving her arms. Ai and Katsu take these actions as a cue to hurriedly get out of the tub on their own, at the opposite side. 

Kokoro wraps the emerald-colored towel around the Sakura’s small, wet body. And Sakura giggles wildly as she’s lifted up into the air and kissed upon her forehead. “You’re so happy today, my little Sakura.”

Kokoro lifts her up with ease, as Sakura had already practically been jumping up into her grip. She holds her close, hugging her daughter tightly before she deposits her onto the mat near the sinks. 

Both Ai and Katsu have already wiped their hair down with each respective towel, and now they’ve already slid on their house-wear: A loose, pale blue dress for Ai, and a periwinkle shirt and shorts for Katsu. The clothing had been freshly washed and ironed by Kokoro moments earlier, so it leaves them warmed to the core after stepping out into the cool air. 

Kokoro smiles broadly as she dries Sakura off, thereafter lifting the towel from around her body to scrub her hair. She ruffles it in rhythmic brushing moments, covering up Sakura’s head and face. Sakura giggles uncontrollably, making Kokoro laugh lightly in return. 

Mitsuru watches them in a daze, staring with a blank face and silent words. When he attempts to swallow, his throat stays tight and raw, and he can feel his heart pounding as if it’s trapped in his esophagus. 

It feels like all his breath has been ripped out of his lungs. The sensation of choking--of being helpless to save yourself--is the only thing that courses through him, overpowering him. 

His mind swirls. Mitsuru feels like his head’s just been dunked under the hot water of the boarding house pool bath.

“--Mitsuru-kun.” Kokoro’s voice is uncharacteristically stern, but for some reason it doesn’t make him startle. He looks up at her, face surely red from the heat of the room. She’d said this while carefully ushering Sakura--clothed in a frilly, blue dress that matches Ai’s--to the door, but she’d turn back to look at him, stopping before she could leave the room.

He can hear the strain in her tone, see the mild tension in her eyes.

She looks close to relieving that tension: Close to yelling or bursting out into tears, or maybe both. It’s not in her nature to do that, but honestly Mitsuru wouldn’t blame her given her pressing circumstances.

Mitsuru takes the steamy, folded-up hand towel off of his head, letting it hang on the edge of the tub. “Are you feeling okay?” he says, as if pretending he hadn’t been zoning out. He ruffles his own hair, which is slightly wet from condensation.

“I’m…” She takes a deep breath, letting it release when she steps close enough to the tub. She begins to drain out the water, signaling for Mitsuru to hurry and get out. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me too much, I just need some time for myself.”

A beat of silence, and then Mitsuru hums. He knows as well as she does that it’s a lie. But he won’t press it; perhaps she does just need time alone to relax. Mitsuru ignores it and says, “I’ve been thinking of what you said earlier. What we talked about before.” He says it like it’s nothing. 

Kokoro stops in the middle of bending back upward. “And?”

“It was the only thing I could think about the whole time I was in there.”

“I thought so. It’s not like you to stay in the bath for so long, and you looked really sleepy.” 

“You were in here with me.”

“Wh-What?” Kokoro almost drops the body towel she’s holding out to him.

Mitsuru stands up in the tub just as the last of the water has completely drained out. He’s smiling slightly, in a wistful sort of way. “Yeah… You were with me. I saw us in the boarding house bath. Err, I _remembered_ us there.”

“O-Oh... “ Kokoro wraps her arms around herself. 

Mitsuru ties the towel around his waist. “I wanted to stay in there forever.”

“I get the same feeling whenever I remember things about us.” Her expression softends, although Mitsuru’s remains sharp and hard to read. “I feel lost in those memories.”

“It’s just odd,” he says as he steps out of the tub and onto the plastic bath-mat. “When I experience those visions… They don’t feel real.”

“B-But they must be!” Her brows crease. “Everything I’ve seen matches up with what the others have told us…”

“That isn’t what I mean,” he says stiffly. “Those visions are just like...dreams.”

“Except they’re real, you know, somehow! Mitsuru-kun, I..” And Kokoro clenches her fists at her side, blushing a bit. “I want to keep remembering things. I know you seemed unsure about it, but… I believe in what we had before!”

Miku, Zorome, Futoshi, Ikuno, Goro, Ichigo... They’ve all told them countless times that at the exact moment their lips were about to meet to seal their vows, APE had interrupted their wedding ceremony, tearing them quite literally apart. Their hands, once clasped together lovingly, were ripped away from each other, each pulled in opposite directions--just like their memories of each other.

Who even knows what had happened to them while in APE’s custody; those were secrets lost with time and their memories. Stolen memories that no one could ever help them remember again, no outside sources to coax the experiences out of them. 

Those memories are the ones that intrigue her the most. After all, when she’d finally remembered some of the most private moments between herself and Mitsuru, she had felt that they were the most sacred and true.

“We can piece it all together. Both of us, Mitsuru-kun! It’s not too late!” Her voice is desperate and pleading, and she clasps her hands at her chest.

Sakura peeks her head around the doorway, staring curiously, but also looking quite fearful. She steps inside, creeping slowly towards her parents. 

Mitsuru cuts in flatly, “It’s better if we don’t. There’s no point in--” 

“—You can’t just keep running from it all!” They’ve spent ten long years rebuilding their relationship—except ‘rebuilding’ meaning cultivating a new relationship out of the dust of the old. It’s about time they start confronting the past that’s beginning to reveal itself in fragments. “We should be allowed to look back, even for just a little! We deserve to know, especially for our kids’ sakes!”

“Isn’t it best for our kids if we move forward?” Mitsuru’s voice resounds throughout the bathroom, bouncing off the tiled floors and plain walls. Kokoro glares almost wide-eyed and disgusted, about to retort when she feels a tug on the skirt of her long, flowing dress--

“--M-Mama…? Papa?” Sakura looks up with water-filled eyes, and keeps yanking her dress. “S-Sakura doesn’t l-like it when Mama and Papa y-yell… Why are you mad, Mama? D-Did S-Sakura do something…?” She looks close to crying, and with a pitiful look on her face. If her wobbly voice and frown says anything, it’s that she’s deeply hurt by the unintended display they’re putting on.

Kokoro stops and stares downward at her daughter, tears forming in her own eyes as well. “Oh, Sakura, I-I’m n-not angry…” She crouches down, attempting a smile. Mitsuru watches on, seeing the way she comforts her--playing with her hair and rubbing her arm gently. Sakura still seems concerned. “S-Sakura--” All at once, Kokoro’s façade crumbles and she hugs Sakura close, breaking out into soft sobbing. “M-Mama’s s-sorry--” 

“K-Kokoro-san--!” Mitsuru nearly slips as practically leaps over to them, diving down to embrace the two of them. Sakura has already begun to cry, snot coming out of her nose as she paws at her mother. All Kokoro can do is quietly cry into her daughter’s shoulder; she thinks it’s so pathetic of her. “It’s okay,” he breathes, “you’ll be okay.”

Kokoro sits down onto the floor, pulling Sakura into her side and gripping onto her tightly. The tears still flow, but not as strongly. “Mama and Papa won’t fight anymore,” she whispers to Sakura, kissing the side of her head. She rubs the top, too, cupping the back of her head. Sakura’s whimpers gradually lessen.

She takes a deep, shaky, breath. Mitsuru reaches down to hold her hand in his, squeezing it three times gently.

“What’s wrong with trying to remember?” Kokoro says, her voice quiet and hoarse. “Doesn’t a part of you...just long for it? Like something’s missing, even after everything we’ve been through after the fact?” She presses further into the comfort of Mitsuru’s chest, putting her palm against where his heart is and squeezing the hand that he’s holding securely.   
Mitsuru runs his hand down her back, eyebrows narrowing with concern. He kisses the top of her head. “Does any of that matter anymore...?” His voice goes quiet and soothing at the end as he shifts his weight. 

“I don’t know, Mitsuru-kun, I don’t know...” Dull pain shoots through her, but it’s not as bad. She groans softly, her hands trembling.

“We should think about the present,” he offers, resting her hand atop the gentle curve of her back. His palm slides to her waist after a few moments. “But maybe...” There’s a pause from Mitsuru, and Kokoro looks up at him with a solemn-looking gaze. “You’re right, that some part of me wants to know.”

“Then we should…”

“Don’t strain yourself or the baby,” he says simply, bringing his palm down to rest on her belly. “But we’ll...do _something_.”

“Oh, Mitsuru-kun…” Kokoro’s voice fades into silence as she tugs at him weakly, burying her face in his chest. “What are we gonna do about this…”

“I don’t know but… We’ll do it together.”

He realizes that he and Kokoro will most certainly stir the pot again, albeit on a much smaller and much more private scale.


	5. V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed that the chapter count is up to 10! That’s because as I was going through my outline, I decided to add a few things. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was one of my favorites to write, and the longest so far, so I hope you enjoy!

Lately, Kokoro has had a perchance for desserts.

Her cravings previously had been weird in the sense that she’d wanted something salty one minute, then sour food the next. This time, she’d first wanted only tart or grainy foods such as fruits, crackers, yogurts, soups, and breads. But with her seventh month of pregnancy nearing its middle, Kokoro had begun favoring sweet things.

It had especially amused her when the others would wistfully and fondly compare her to Zero Two--and she’d jokingly threaten to douse whatever they had for dinner in honey, saying it would taste delectable. 

During their lunch breaks, Mitsuru would often buy something from Futoshi’s bakery, and then they’d both meet up in her flower shop and eat together. The best part about her job had to be that it was a hobby she had always loved, but the perk of a lax schedule was something Kokoro always appreciated.

Whenever Mitsuru’s lunch break rolled around--or on days where labor wasn’t needed and he was already helping her run the shop--Kokoro would pack food to have amongst the flowers, while Mitsuru would continually make the stop to pick up whatever desserts she had asked for that particular day.

Since their confrontation in the bathroom, they’d been talking more about what they’d see in glimpses in addition to their usual conversation.

“I can’t do it alone,” she had admitted one day, staring down into her cup of hot green tea. “So I’m glad you finally agreed to help with it. We can do this for the both of us. I think the others would say it’s better this way.”

And another time, Mitsuru had told her, “I can always hear you saying that you believed in me. Even when no one else did, you still stuck by me and encouraged me. So even though I remembered Ikuno doing all that before...I see that it’s all you now, Kokoro-san.” He’d fiddled with the sandwich on his plate, blushing through a smile.

Kokoro’s been feeling strangely warm and content in the aftermath. She’s eternally grateful that she can still prepare bouquets and arrangements while pregnant--albeit much more carefully. In addition to the countless opportunities for her and Mitsuru to discover themselves again, her work is quite relaxing for her racing mind and the flowers’ scents are an authentic aromatherapy experience.

Today, a few customers had come in during the morning: One asking for just a single red rose; another requesting a vase full of azaleas, all of which Kokoro had helped to color-code; a third had wanted some sunflower seeds to plant in their garden; and the last one had looked through her supply for possibly wedding flower selections. Kokoro knew she’d be busy within the coming weeks.

A small, carefully embroidered and designed sign had been slung onto the little door-knob outside of her shop, reading ‘Closed’ in curved, fancy kanji. 

She had messaged Mitsuru a short while ago, asking for cream puffs and hot cocoa for this afternoon’s dessert. Their outside crusts were always slightly crispy, and the cream filling always sweet and fluffy. These were he favorites, because whenever Kokoro’s fork would press down to cut a piece off, it would bounce like a marshmallow. Not to mention, the hot cocoa was always smooth and creamy, with just the right amount of chocolate.

Mitsuru had replied to her not long after, saying simply that he’d get the items for her, but he’d said nothing more after that. Kokoro had found it a bit odd that he hadn’t said anything in a while, and the fact that he still hadn’t arrived yet. It didn’t usually take him this long to walk from the fields to the flower shop. 

Kokoro chalks it up to him being caught up with work and cleaning up later than normal, then leaving late. 

So she begins to wait. 

Setting the two bento boxes full of their lunches to the side of the tabletop, quietly running her fingers through her hair. 

Her hand falls down to her baby bump. She was quite familiar with carrying children, and all the hardships that came with it--like getting so big--but that didn’t mean she didn’t get sore once in a while. 

She was used to it, but it was still...uncomfortable.

Now, standing on her feet all day was starting to get tiresome. Kokoro rubs her belly absentmindedly, feeling the little movements of her baby under her palm. 

The stronger kicking hadn’t begun yet, only light moving. Soon, she’d feel its little feet pounding against her stomach.

She wonders...what should they name their baby?

Besides a few fleeting conversations and a couple times at the dinner table in passing, they hadn’t talked about names thus far. For the other three, they’d figured out names right when they were born. Perhaps naming would be a good topic to bring up today, what with her due date only a couple months away. Maybe they could even consult the other children for their opinions—though, Kokoro was sure their answers would all be unanimously silly. 

As she’s looking down, caressing her stomach, lost in her thoughts, the small bell above the door chimes as someone steps inside. 

She’s about to politely tell her next customer that the shop’s closed for her lunch break, when—she looks up and realizes it isn’t another customer. 

“Mitsuru-kun!” she shouts, standing up abruptly. The sudden action coupled with his name makes her go a little dizzy. Kokoro’s face lights up at the sight of him, but it just as quickly falls as she takes in the details of his expression. “Oh, sweetheart…?”

He had closed the door behind him, but was still leaning against it with his back. His right arm is also outstretched, fingers gripping the side of the doorway. “Sorry I’m late, I came as soon as I could. They were even busier today, so it took a little longer…” Kokoro notices the way his breathing is slightly elevated. But, Mitsuru holds up the bag of cream puffs, which has a cute design of pink and white stripes going up and down. In his other hand, a small to-go cup made for coffee, but its scent revealed it to be the hot cocoa she’d asked for.

Kokoro waves her hand dismissively, a careful smile pulling her lips up. “Oh, it’s nothing! You didn’t take that long, and I still really appreciate…” Her voice trails off when Mitsuru carefully plops the bag and cup down on the table instead of bringing them over to place in her grip.

Kokoro blinks as Mitsuru grabs both of her hands into his own. “The bakery being so behind is why I rushed over here—”

“Hmm…?” Wide-eyed, Kokoro stares down at their intertwined hands, then back up at him. She sees the little sweat-drops at his hairline, shimmering. 

“We need to get to the hospital,” he says, pulling her toward the flower shop door. Kokoro is yanked along suddenly, yelping in surprise. When he flings the door open, she plants her feet firmly into the ground, stopping them both. 

“What?” Kokoro takes a sharp breath. Her heart beats fast—what’s happening? He’s hitting her with all of this too fast, with no time to process it. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Her head shakes as she speaks, but Mitsuru still grips her hands tight. 

Mitsuru brings his palms up to cup her face, ceasing her movements. His expression is calm, not like something so serious or depressing just happened. This eases Kokoro, her posture relaxing, but her brows still knitted curiously. “Nothing’s wrong. We just need to go visit, because—the employees at the bakery told me Futoshi’s wife just had their baby.”

* * *

The drab palette of the hospital walls and floors is a stark contrast to the vibrant colors in her flower shop. Although Ikuno and Naomi work in this building every day, Kokoro sensed it was just in their personalities to prefer calm and muted colors. After all, they seemed just as lively as always even when surrounded by ailmented patients and sterile shades of olive or beige. 

Walking quite close to Mitsuru down one of the hallways, Kokoro briefly glances to their right side, where light is filtering in from the row of windows, as if illuminating her every step. She was very familiar with this hospital due to her many pregnancy check-ups as of late. This current hospital was modelled after the one from the Bird’s Nest, and situated near the schools. It had been built two years or so before Sakura had been born, and so Kokoro had frequented it during that pregnancy as well. 

The mood is already bright, but the noon sun seemed to enhance it--Kokoro had become even more jittery and jubilant when she’d stepped inside, a smile plastered to her face the whole time. It was a good thing that the hospital was a minimal distance from her shop, because soon she wouldn’t be able to hold her joy in so long for any longer. 

“--Do you think it’s a girl? Or a boy?” Kokoro’s fingertip taps along her cheek, a giddy laugh bursting out. 

Next to her, Mitsuru is still smiling a little. He can’t help but feel nostalgic--he remembers that first time in the Bird’s Nest where he’d sprinted down a similar corridor to see Kokoro and their newborn Ai. “I couldn’t guess. Either way, I’m mostly just wondering what they’ll look like.”

“Mm! Their first two look just like them, so I wonder…” Her hands fall behind her back, folding together. She tries to imagine a girl, then a boy, but fails. It’s something that’s hard to picture, even when she thinks about what her own unborn child will look like. 

“I still wonder why he didn’t call to let us know…” Kokoro continues, humming a little. 

“It must’ve happened so suddenly. And from how his employees phrased it, it sounded like it was earlier in the morning, too.”

Kokoro purses her lips. “Yeah…”

Mitsuru turns to her and smirks a little, eyes training forward so she doesn’t notice. “Don’t look so down, he probably just didn’t want to bother us at that hour.”

“Wh-What?! I’m not!” She quickly composes herself and folds her hands in front of her, resting them against her bump. 

“...I can tell you’re excited, Kokoro-san.”

“O-Of course! You know like I do that when your child is born, it’s a wonderful feeling.” A blush begins to grow on her cheeks as she speaks. For a moment after, the only sounds are the light tapping of her feet and the slightly heavier—yet swifter—footsteps of her husband. “No matter how many times…”

“You’re self-projecting a little,” suggests Mitsuru, his arms crossed rather limply in a relaxed position. His expression looks almost...satisfied. 

“No! Well...it’s true that I want our baby to be born already. It’s hard to just wait in this condition.” Yes, this would be the last time. After this, she could focus more on taking care of the children she already had. Her and Mitsuru were still young, so they would have time to reflect on themselves as well, still. 

His eyes shift to her belly, and he reaches out his hand to caress it briefly. “I know, I feel the same. You’re really strong, Kokoro-san. I know it’s hard on you, but you still never complain about it. Sometimes, it’s a little hard for me to watch you so uncomfortable, because all I want to do is take that hurt away.”

“Oh, Mitsuru-kun…” Looking at him, her eyes seem to smile. A giggle comes out and she pulls him closer, clinging to his arm. She even nuzzles it, a fuzzy feeling boiling up in the pit of her stomach. “You don’t have to feel so bad for me, though. Giving birth is a much more painful experience than just being pregnant…”

“I-I meant that part, too,” brushes off Mitsuru, though not without a blush on his face. 

She stays like that pressed into him as they walk. Mitsuru glances at each room, since they’re approaching ever closer. “What was the number again?” he asks diligently, scanning the glowing, holographic number plates next to each white, sliding door. 

Kokoro, lifting her head up but still grasping onto him tightly, ponders it. The secretary at the front had said… “Oh, it’s 44,” she recites from memory, copying Mitsuru and glancing at the passing rooms. If she listens closely, she can hear hushed voices from behind some of them. Some are open, with doctors bustling in and out between them. 

39, 40, 41, 42, 43…

Before either of them can even spot the 44 emblazoned on the orange hologram card, the door slides upward suddenly, revealing three people standing in the doorway, one much taller than the others. The smaller two stop 

The tallest one is looking back into the room, yelling an afterthought back. He’s waving his hand dismissively too, a snarky grin on his face like he’s all too confident. “Don’t worry about it, Futoshi! Miku and I’ll watch them for the rest of the day, you two just--”

As it turns out, the adult of the group is Zorome--who double-takes and stops in his tracks once he spots Mitsuru and Kokoro at his right. The two children, one on either side of him, look up at the couple: The boy is taller and evidently older, with auburn hair and brown eyes, and the girl with soft, gray eyes and short, umber locks, her features calm and mature even at her age. They both smile at Kokoro and Mitsuru, and Kokoro waves back at them lightly. 

When they’re all fully outside, the door behind them slides down again, tempting Kokoro even further. 

“Oh! It’s you two! So you finally heard the news?” Zorome grins at them and cackles loudly, then leans down to ruffles each child’s hair. “I was just about to call you guys and the others to come and see.” The slightest blush also makes his cheeks light up, and...Kokoro swears she sees a bit of water at the corners of his eyes.

The realization makes her giggle quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“We just found out,” Mitsuru answers for the both of them, leaving Kokoro to clasp her hands together excitedly. 

“Is Miku here too..?” she asks, though she doesn’t know why Miku would stay in there. Perhaps she’s just being hopeful.

“Nah, she stayed with the kids at the school. These two were in class when Futoshi called and told me, so I brought them over right away to visit!” Zorome hugs Futoshi’s two kids close despite their protests, then releases them with a cackle. 

Kokoro, even with her belly in the way, cautiously yet eagerly crouches down to the girl, Yui’s, height. She’s kneeling, her round stomach resting in her lap. Yui begins to run over to her gleefully, arms outstretched. “Hey, Yui-chan!~” 

“Auntie Kokoro!~” And with that, Yui falls into Kokoro’s embrace, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Kokoro’s chest. Kokoro leans her head down, snuggling it into Yui’s shoulder. “Do y’know what? Do y’know what happened today?” She’s practically bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet, but carefully so as to not disturb Kokoro’s baby bump. Yui must know from experience with her own mother that she has to be gentle.

“What?” asks Kokoro, trying to amuse her. She already knows the answer, of course, but it’d be cuter to hear what Yui has to say.

“We have a little sister now! Mama and Papa gave her to us!” She smiles up at Kokoro very broadly, and Kokoro feels some tingles go up her spine. Her face heats up. _So it’s a girl, huh._ “Mama had her in her belly for a long time, and I think Taro wanted a brother, but I’m glad it was a girl!”

“That’s great, sweetheart.” Kokoro pats her hair, then caresses the back of her head. At the ripe age of six, Yui is already so curious and talkative. It doesn’t surprise her, but her personality is bubbly and sweet. “I bet you were excited to meet her, hmm? Ai was the same way.”

“Yep! But Mama and Papa wouldn’t let me name her…” Her lips form a pout, but that just makes Kokoro laugh a little.

“Well, I can’t wait to see her, too, Yui-chan.” 

Kokoro goes to get up, and Mitsuru, who’d been talking to Zorome, notices--he offers her his hands, which she accepts.

“--Thank you, Mitsuru-kun,” she says once she’s standing, wobbling on her feet a little until she catches her full balance. This baby has made her center of gravity all messed up, and at times it irritated her that she couldn’t do simple things without some assistance. “Now, now, we should be going inside...”

Zorome stands up straighter. “Right! And the three of us should be leaving!” Before he goes to collect Yui, he reaches out to pinch Taro’s cheek, who’d been listening in to his conversation with Mitsuru.

His face scrunches up and he whines, “Uncle Zorome!” But Zorome persists for a few seconds, then finally lets go. Taro rubs at his face in dismay, looking quite annoyed for a ten year old. 

“Oi, Yui!” At the sound of her name, she stares up at him, and sees the playful spark in his eyes. She begins to run away, but Zorome chases her, both of them laughing all the while. “I’ve gotcha!” he says in victory as he scoops her up, hanging her over his shoulder. Yui laughs and kicks playfully, but Zorome’s grip is comparatively stronger than hers.

“We’ll see you!” Zorome shouts back at them, patting Taro on the back, urging him to follow along. Kokoro sees him cross his arms, but then comply once Zorome promises to play some soccer with him after lunch.

“Bye bye, Auntie Kokoro! And Uncle Mitsuru!” Yui is waving her hands back and forth rapidly, her bangs bouncing up and down with each airy step Zorome takes.

This time, both Kokoro and Mitsuru wave back at her, a renewed cheeriness in the atmosphere--as if it wasn’t already full to the brim with happiness. 

“They’re cute,” remarks Kokoro aloud, hugging herself close. A warm sigh releases as Mitsuru wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Did you get the chance to talk to Taro-kun?”

“Not really. I think...he was mostly just listening.” Mitsuru flattens the top of his hair as he says this. Drawn in by his words, Kokoro blinks questioningly. “To be honest, he’s a bit of an enigma.” Mitsuru says it with a certain wistfulness in his tone. She catches him staring at Taro as he walks away. 

This hadn’t been what Kokoro was expecting to hear. It leaves her a bit curious, so she decides to press it further. “Mou, what do you mean by that?” she prods, dusting off the hem of her dress.

“I think when he was little, he was a lot like Futoshi. But now...he’s a little more vocal and impulsive.” He looks down at the ground and kicks one foot. “Just now, though, he seemed like he’s a good observer. Like he can read situations well.”

“Ah, ah! There’s your problem, then! Children aren’t their parents, they’re individuals.” Around Kokoro, she had observed Taro to be a wild card, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t kind most of the time. Kokoro doesn’t compare him to Futoshi, much less see him as an extension of his father. “You know, you have to recognize that Taro-kun is his own person.”

_He’s his own person._

There’s no pain this time, but a memory flashes past her vision—or at least what seems to be one. 

It’s her, looking back at the Stamen in Genista’s pilot seat. 

...Who is it?

She’s speaking to him, but there’s absolutely no sound, not even from what must be a raging battle outside if the slight shaking of the cockpit indicates anything. Whatever she’d said, Kokoro surmises that it must be her convincing this boy that he should be his own person. Or at least, something related to the phrase she’d just said. 

Kokoro blinks, and the vision fades away. 

She turns to Mitsuru, who has his eyebrow raised at her, and she sees a thick, dark stream of blood going down the the right side of his face. 

Another blink, and it’s gone. 

“Uhhh, Kokoro-san...?”

“Huh? Oh—! Sorry, I was zoned out for a second there...” Despite the confusing and chilling imagery, Kokoro smiles at him reassuringly. 

What does it mean? She can’t place this event at all within the timeline the others have laid out for her. Thankfully, the vision had only shaken her momentarily. She hopes he won’t think about it too much. 

Luck seems to work in her favor, because Mitsuru smiles back. “Mm. Well, let me know if you need to sit down, alright?” He keeps his arm securely around her as they both step forwards to the door. 

“Sure, but I should be good for now, dear,” she says simply as she pats his hand. After the last word, she swallows, unsure of the weight of what she’d experienced. In her heart, she has a feeling...

...Like deep down, she knows. Somewhere, in her mind’s recesses, there are fragments of an event that she can’t quite put her finger on.

“Futoshi,” comes Mitsuru’s voice, his volume elevated just slightly. As he says this, he reaches out to gently knock upon the door; it hadn’t slid open automatically, due to it most likely locking itself after Zorome and the kids had walked through. 

“C-Coming!” Along with Futoshi’s awestruck, slow voice are his heavy footfall toward the door. If Kokoro listens in closely from this distance, the gurgling of the baby and soft laughing of her mother are audible. 

There are a few taps on the touchpad inside, then a click. The door slides up again, unlocked, the entryway open and free. In the doorway, Futoshi stands with a plain white shirt and sweatpants on--evidently, he’d probably been sleeping in them when he’d brought his wife to the hospital, as this wasn’t his usual working attire. Looking closely, the blush and wetness on his cheeks as well as the tears in his eyes were still clear as day.

Another image shifts into her sight--that same crying face, glitching in and out…?

_Blink_. It’s gone, barely noticeable by Kokoro, and not long enough for her to severely question it. This tender moment can’t be ruined, after all.

As it turns out, Mitsuru and Kokoro hardly catch a glimpse of him because it’s not long before he bends down and pulls them both into a tight hug. Both of them yelp nearly in time with the other, but Futoshi’s embrace is warm and gradually lessens to a grip that’s bearable.

Mitsuru laughs and slaps Futoshi’s back. “Hey now, aren’t _we_ supposed to be the ones hugging _you_?”

“Heheheh, congratulations, Futoshi-kun…” Kokoro spouts happily, placing her hand on his back gently. Her face is also tinged with a light pink.

Surprisingly, he’s the first to pull away. “You guys… I’m glad you came so soon. Ehh, you know, I wanted to call you, but I thought you’d be busy with work, so…”

“Don’t fuss over that. Things like this are different,” says Kokoro, who wags her finger in mock scolding. “Besides, I really want to see this baby already…” She lets out a puff and next to her, Mitsuru sighs.

“Please, Futoshi, show her. She’s been on a kick with her maternal instincts ever since we found out.”

With her cheeks puffed out, Kokoro gives him a pouty look, but clutches her hands at her chest pleadingly, trying to peek inside the room.

“Right, right, don’t let me stop you,” Futoshi laughs as he steps aside, and of course Kokoro is the first one in the delivery room. 

The hospital bed lies along the right wall, and smooth beams of sunlight filter in through the high windows on the far wall. Alone in the bed, sitting in an upright position while leaning back into some fluffy windows, is Futoshi’s wife, who’s cradling their baby lovingly in her arms. When Kokoro stumbles inside, her gaze rises up and she smiles.

“Miso-chan! Congratulations!--” 

CODE:030 is how she had once been known. Back at the Bird’s Nest, they’d all started giving names to the Parasites in Hiro’s stead. And so, “thirty” could also be read a different way--as “Miso.” It hadn’t been long before she and Futoshi had gotten acquainted, and then they had started courting each other after both of them being too shy to admit their feelings for the longest time. After that, they spent nearly all their time together, and soon they’d gotten married in a simple but beautiful ceremony. 

“--But how are you feeling?” finishes Kokoro, sidling up to the side of the bed, resting herself on the edge near the other’s calves.

Looking at Miso, she was obviously worn-out, but there was a vibrancy to her that must’ve stemmed from the newborn she’d given birth to only a few hours ago. “Oh, I’m alright… The labor didn’t last as long as the others, it was only six hours or so.” To a regular person, that might’ve sounded long, but Kokoro knew it could usually last sixteen or more. With Ai, it had been at least eighteen, but with each birth it had gotten quicker and easier. She assumed it was the same for most women anyhow.

“How lucky~” She smiles again, perking up when the baby coos. Behind her, Mitsuru approaches, standing up next to the bed. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “What’s her name?” she asks curiously, folding her hands in her lap. 

Futoshi, who’d stepped in with Mitsuru, now stands closely besides Miso, offering her a sip from a cup of water. “We decided on Karin-chan,” he says proudly, with maybe a bit more tears welling up in his eyes.  
When Miso swallows the last of her water, she says, “My, my, Futoshi-san is still so sappy about these kinds of things…” Miso cups one side of her face with her palm, giggling lightly.

“I can’t help it, you know! She’s really adorable, and soft, and small..” And as he says this, his voice starts to get wobbly. Spreading his fingers near the baby, Karin reaches out to grasp them, and that’s when Futoshi really starts to melt--getting weepy to the maximum. “Mmm, Karin-chan…”

Kokoro stares off at the three of them, watching the way Miso pats the bundle of blanket that envelops their child. Mitsuru mutters out a quick laugh at the scene, no doubt noting the similarity to all of their own children’s births.

Maybe Miso sees her staring so intently, because she says, “Kokoro, come closer and see her. I’m sure she wants to meet her Aunt…” The soft smile that comes after compels Kokoro to quickly straighten up and step next to Miso.

“Here, you can hold her,” Miso says, kissing her newborn daughter’s cheek before slowly holding her out. Kokoro grabs her carefully, and makes sure she’s holding her securely. The little one squirms a bit, mewling. 

Kokoro cradles the baby gently, looking down at her, examining her features. She’s swaddled in a plush white blanket, yawning and gurgling—though, she’s wide-eyed and diligent. While their first son looked like Futoshi, and their first daughter looked more like her mother, this little girl is a pleasant mix. She has Futoshi’s hair color, but with a little brown mixed in due to Miso, giving her a darker auburn tone. The same thick eyebrows as Futoshi are on her face, as are his cute smile and chubby cheeks. However, Karin has Miso’s dark brown eyes and fair skin tone, giving her an elegant beauty about her features.

“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” Kokoro coos, suddenly overcome with a bout of emotion. Soon she’d be holding her own new baby, and get to relive the exhilarating, heart-warming feeling of being a mother again, of having another child to love and care for. There are the tiniest speckles of tears forming at the corners of her eyes—she wipes at them. 

“Are you okay, Kokoro-chan?” Futoshi’s looking at her as she rubs at her eyes, frowning lightly with obvious concern. 

“I-I’m fine!” she squeaks, raising the baby a little higher and hugging her close. A sigh lets out. Karin reaches out to her with her little arms, gurgling. “You must be excited to have another daughter, huh? She’s a daddy’s girl, I can tell...” Kokoro looks up at Futoshi and grins, handing the baby off for him to dote on. “I bet she’ll be just like you, Futoshi-kun.”

He kisses the baby’s forehead and snuggles her up close to his broad chest. Futoshi shoots Kokoro an unsure, bashful smile. “Eh, well, I would rather have her be like her mother, not me, heheh...”

Beside him, Miso laughs quietly and loops her arms around one of her husband’s, squeezing gently. Futoshi briefly looks down at her, grinning with a blush.

“Well, we should leave you two alone,” Mitsuru suggests, gently petting the baby in Futoshi’s grip. After he’s satisfied with observing, he continues, “And Miso surely needs time to rest up. We came here unannounced, after all, so…”

“You can stay if you want, really! I don’t think we’d mind,” Futoshi speaks up, waving dismissively with his free hand.

But Kokoro protests: “I wish we could, Futoshi-kun, but the shop hasn’t closed for today, so we really should get going back there.” Regrettably, Kokoro takes one last look at Karin before heading toward the door with her husband. 

“We’ll catch up soon,” remarks Miso as she and Futoshi wave them off, and Mitsuru and Kokoro walk out of the room at the same pace.

* * *

“Today’s really nice, isn’t it?”

An expansive meadow with throngs of children playing and adults sitting and relaxing lies just beyond where they’re walking along a paved path. The large lake beyond the grass provides the perfect contrast in backdrop, almost making the whole scene seem brighter than it truly is.

“Mmmhmm. It’s fitting,” says Kokoro, stopping in her tracks to twirl around. Slowly, of course. “Why don’t we stay here for a bit…?”

It doesn’t take Mitsuru a lot of coaxing for him to give in. Their visit to the hospital had certainly livened their spirits when the week had been going rather dully. “If you need to rest, I’m all for it.”

“Yeah… Today has been exhausting, but in a good way.” She folds her hands in front of her, letting her shoulders drop. “I really want to appreciate the view. It’s simple, but…”

“...Still really beautiful, right?” Mitsuru finishes, gazing out at the families and the way petals float in the breeze. Kokoro nods in agreement, moving toward an area to the side of the walkway. “Hmm?”

“I want to sit down…just for a little while.” In the direction she’s walking, there’s a small gazebo providing ample shade and a few benches for sitting. It overlooks the park-like area and vast gardens. 

Approaching her, Mitsuru grabs her hand and they walk side-by-side. 

The bounce in her step is expected. 

“Karin has made you awfully lively today,” Mitsuru remarks, squeezing her hand. “But I suppose it’s better than you getting moody.”

“Moody?” Kokoro emphasizes each syllable very slowly, her expression contorting into a dirty look. 

“But it’s really not too bad,” he says quickly. “It’s just jarring to see you get so feisty, since you’re usually calm and quiet. That’s why it always catches me off guard. Comparatively, your personality can sometimes do a one-eighty because of your hormones.”

“And who do you think gets me so worked up all the time, hmm...?” She smiles unnervingly, almost like a threat, but giggles when she sees the paleness of Mitsuru’s face. “Fufufu! What am I gonna do with you?” Kokoro mumbles it rhetorically, still guiding him toward the gazebo spot. 

A few moments pass comfortably between them. 

Kokoro walks up the first step, and looks back down at Mitsuru, who had released her hand. 

“...I like seeing you so carefree like this, Kokoro-san.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s good having you grow closer to me, especially while our baby is still inside me.” The sensation of her baby developing even further has been uplifting her lately, but she would be lying if she said rekindling that lost relationship with Mitsuru didn’t make her all the more gleeful. In a way, it felt like they were at the Bird’s Nest again, falling in love all over. “It’s a nice feeling, so you have yourself to thank for making so joyful lately.”

“It’s not just me,” he mutters as Kokoro turns back around fully, waiting for him at the top step. His hands are stuffed into his pockets. 

“Sure, it’s Karin too, but…” She rubs her belly almost as if it’s an afterthought. “She’s just part of that new leaf for all of us. Karin, us, our baby…” 

“Kokoro-san…” Mitsuru coughs and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“S-Sorry! Let’s sit down, I didn’t mean to get so philosophical.” 

Soon enough, they’re both seated next to each other on a thin bench, Kokoro letting out a breath. With Mitsuru beside her, his shoulder looks so tempting…

Mewling, she leans against him, letting her eyes drift closed in a matter of minutes.

* * *

_Her hand, in a dreamy, diluted mist, rises up hesitantly above her head. She watches it intently from her perspective, then stares at it from outside of her body._

_Kokoro looks at the phantom Kokoro’s moving lips. Moving, but with nothing coming out—no, she just can’t hear her own words. She moves closer, closer, closer--she can’t hear her. It’s unnatural, because there should be sound. It’s enough to start making her go mad.  
_

_...Why is everyone looking at her that way, shocked with eyebrows raised and open mouths?_

_Suddenly, she’s thrown back into her own point of view, seeing out of her own eyes. Her stomach lurches. She feels like she’s having whiplash._

_The others fade away until only Mitsuru is left. Out of the corner of her vision, Kokoro sees him looking at her, astonished but trying to restrain it. Both of them look almost translucent, the edges of their forms glitching in and out._

_The world crumbles apart around them, leaving them floating in blank, white space, as if they’re about to fall down, reaching out toward each other--_

* * *

When she awakens, still leaned against Mitsuru’s side, her face is all scrunched up and there are a few sweat beads rolling down her forehead. The room feels too stuffy and hot… Kokoro doesn’t know how it’s possible, but somehow she’s woken up feeling less rested than before. Her head pulses in rhythm with the fast pumping of her heart.

“Uaah..” she yawns, covering it with her palm. It’s then that Mitsuru takes notice of her.

“Good morning,” he teases, shifting himself to face her once Kokoro has wearily lifted her head off of him. “How was your nap? You fell asleep for a while, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Fine,” she lies, and yawns again. Her gaze is still sleepy. She doesn’t feel refreshed at all. “Was it really that long? What time is it?” Suddenly she feels a little frantic about it for some reason--maybe it’s just the panic from her dream transitioning over. The vision in her dream had maybe lasted a minute at most; it doesn’t feel like she possibly could’ve slept for as long as Mitsuru is insinuating.

“Relax.” His palm falls to her arm, and she stares at it. “It was a half hour or so…” Then, Mitsuru slowly leans forward, and Kokoro, knowing what he’s about to do, holds her arms out to welcome the embrace. His chest presses into her breasts, but he’s careful not to put too much pressure on her belly. Kokoro’s arms snake around him and clutch at the fabric of his clothes.

The space above her shoulder is occupied by Mitsuru’s head. He keeps nuzzling his chin into her, cautiously moving himself closer between her spread legs. Every now and then, he’ll pepper kisses along Kokoro’s cheek and neck. As for Kokoro herself, she runs up and down his back with her fingers, savoring the familiar heat his body provides.

And then--

“Ahh! Wait! We forgot about lunch!” Kokoro whines, squirming her arms around. 

But Mitsuru holds on tight. “Your customers can wait a little longer,” he says almost slyly, and eventually she stops protesting. Now, they’re nestled even closer...

_Yeah_. Her customers would surely understand why her lunch break had run much longer than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i named her after a street fighter character, what about it?

**Author's Note:**

> You can check out [my twitter](https://twitter.com/usabuns) if you'd like! 
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading!


End file.
